


Breathless (A Tale of Eggsy Unwin)

by xxjinchuurikixx



Series: Breathless [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Eggsy, Breathless, Breathless: A Tale Of Eggsy Unwin, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Frottage, Harry Hart Lives, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Forced Prostitution, Night Terrors, Older Man/Younger Man, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Virgin!Eggsy, Well-Dressed Men, age gap, kingsman - Freeform, let's just talk about this, now with zero epithets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 101,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxjinchuurikixx/pseuds/xxjinchuurikixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry--"Eggsy breaks off, because, god, Harry's here! He's alive, breathing, beautiful, and he's got Eggsy crushed in his arms and Eggsy can feel his mouth tingling from the roughness of his kiss.<br/>Then Harry pulls back; more-so he shoves Eggsy away. He keeps him pinned to the wall, at arms length, and Eggsy is pleased to see Harry is panting, stray chocolate hairs fallen out of place. The action, however, makes his blood feel cold, and he stares up at Harry in confusion, expecting something more. But Harry makes no move to close the space between them again.<br/>When Harry speaks, finally, it's low and deadly and it fucking hurts.<br/>"Forget that ever happened."</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>**In which Harry Hart returns to confuse the shit out of Eggsy, and make his life a bit of rough.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take The Breath Right Out Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first Hartwin fic. Also, my first AO3 fic!! I am ship trash and have been eyeballs deep in Harry x Eggsy fics since I watched the movie premier. 
> 
> EDIT  
> Now with zero epithets <3 <3  
> -xo Mo
> 
> Come check out my Tumblr! It's mostly fandom and gay. [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)

Eggsy's heart is racing; thunder behind his ribcage, blood on fire under the skin.

He jolts upright in bed, sweat slicking his bangs to his forehead, his nerves live wires that prickle and ache all over. It hurts. It hurts very, very much, and he tilts his head back and draws in gulps of air, hands white-knuckling the sheets.

He can still hear it; _bang_... But it's not so simple as the word 'bang', more than it is the explosion of thunder that comes from being _directly_ beneath the lightning strike. It's a physical strain to breathe, and he wants so bad to be able to lie back down and fall back to sleep.  
But he knows what happens when he tries. _Bang._

His fingers are trembling when he reaches up and clutches at his windpipe, pressing his palm over his heart. It thunders under his touch, beating up against the flesh like it might be trying to tear its way out of the skin. It's bad... So very bad.

JB perks his head up from the foot of the bed, giving a snorty grumble while he looks at his master.

Eggsy sighs. He scrubs a hand down his face, his palm clammy and fingers trembling. "Fuck..." He breaths, and he ducks his head against his drawn-up knees before he looks out the window.

It's still rather dark out, but Eggsy doesn't have time for deciphering what time it is exactly.

There's a half empty cup of tea on his bedside table, and he reaches for it and downs it--despite it being cold and flat--before he sits forward and rakes the hair back from his face with shaky fingers and short breaths.

He doesn't want to lose the burst of adrenaline in his veins. Instead of trying to go back to sleep--which he already knows he'll fail at--he pats JB's head before he climbs out of the bed and limbers up, giving himself a few good minutes to stretch before he drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups.

After about ten reps, he rolls over and does sit-ups.

Then he flips over again.

His heart never gets the chance to slow down.

He can feel the endorphins burning off in his system, feels the fear slithering out of his body in drops of sweat and heavily punished exhales.

He wishes he could feel this way all the time; wishes he could drown the whole world out the way he manages to swallow his memories like a giant, chalky pill.

Then the alarm clock on his bedside table rings, three loud, clear sounds, before a static line picks up over it.

"Galahad? Eggsy, are you alright?" Merlin's voice calls from the box, loud and laced with worry.

Eggsy wheezes, dropping down onto his face suddenly, the air whooshing out of his lungs when his gut meets the floor. "Christ, bruv, you gone an' nearly scared the piss ou'a me."

"My monitor alerted me that your heart rate was increased dramatically. Are you alright?"

"Y-yah, yah. 'M alright, jus workin' out." Eggsy replies, rolling over onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, watching it turn pale as the sun streaks the horizon.

"Working out? _Working out?_ At six in the morning?" Merlin inquires, voice leaden with disbelief.

"Yah."

There's a moment of static silence, and Eggsy's brows furrow in confusion at the way he can almost _feel_ Merlin looking at him like he's done something wrong. "Eggsy, if you were masturbating--"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ , Merlin! Wha in th' hell?!" Eggsy exclaims, brows furrowing as he sits up and whips his head around, giving the alarm clock an incredulous glare, as if Merlin could receive it from him. But realizing his glasses are perched on the edge of the bedside table as well, he supposes he is having a conversation with Merlin--though it feels a bit one-sided.

"As a young man your age, it's perfectly natural to have an active libido and the stamina to exert--"

"Please don' do this. Don' do this t' me, Merlin." Eggsy whines, scrubbing his hand down his face.

"...You were really working out?"

"Yes. Well, now I am."

"But... _First_ you were masturbating?"

"Oh, _Christ._ "

"Well, why are you up so early, Eggsy?"

"I had a bad dream, alright?!" Eggsy yells suddenly, feeling his throat tighten up around the words. He chokes a little. "I was... I was havin' a bad dream... 'S why I woke up so early; thas why my heart rate was so jacked."

He tries to level his voice out, but it just drops down to a cold, low place, and he hopes Merlin heard him because he will not be repeating that.

Merlin's quiet for a long time, and Eggsy uses the silence to wrap his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. It feels a little safer, curled up like this.

"...Eggsy, I'm sorry. I was just trying to--"

"I know, Merlin. I got it."

Merlin clears his throat and sighs heavily. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Ain't nuffin' you don' already know." Eggsy replies, and he can hear the gunshot in his mind, can see Harry's head whip back, his body hit the ground like a puppet with the strings cut. He can see the blood, hears the blast over and over, every night...

Sometimes, though, it's a little different.

Sometimes, it's Harry's finger on the trigger... And it's Eggsy's body that crumples to the ground.

This time, however, it was Valentine shooting Harry, and Eggsy woke up before the prestigious Galahad hit the ground.

It's been a month since Eggsy saved the world, but he felt like a complete asshole for thinking the world wasn't worth the one life he couldn't protect...

Merlin gives a quiet, "Ah. I see then. If you would still like to?"

"Fanks, Merlin. But... 'M still not in the mood."

They both know he will never be 'in the mood'. 'In the mood' is a dangerous place, even if in the company of someone Eggsy trusts so much as Merlin. The closest he got to being 'in the mood' was a minor break down he had one night out drinking with Roxy. He'd gotten all teary and blabbered to her how badly he missed Harry, how his life was falling to pieces around him when he thought he'd just put it together... He even told her about the nightmares, as personal and dark a secret as they were.

Roxy didn't judge. She barely even spoke. Mostly, she ran her fingers through Eggsy's hair and let him bury his face in the juncture between her shoulder and neck, his tears slicking up her neck and rumpling the fine silk of her blouse.

Merlin knew enough. After all, if a Kingsman was wearing their glasses or an auditory and visual pin, Merlin had it on record. Eggsy could tell that Merlin new what he was going through, also, because of the sympathetic looks he had received the next day. It would have seemed unordinary and out of the blue, but Eggsy wasn't drunk enough to forget all that he'd told Roxy, and Merlin wasn't a good enough faker to pretend like he could just sweep his dear friend's pain under a rug.

Merlin tuts quietly. "Right then. I'll just leave you to your... Work out."

"Hey, why you don' nevva checked up on be before? This ain't exactly the first mornin' I 'ad a nightmare an' woke up in a cold sweat."

"I just happened to be awake and on the monitor." Merlin replies simply. "I try to keep as close a watch on you and Lancelot as possible, without

interfering with your own personal privacy." He continues to explain. "You two are very important to--Kingsman."

Eggsy grins at that, his heart feeling quite a substantial bit lighter. On the bed, JB gives an incredulous 'boof' of approval.

"Thanks then." Eggsy replies quietly, raking his fingers through the thick of the front of his hair. "Oi, Merlin?"

"Yes?" Merlin replies, still on the line.

"Wot was you doin' up at six in the mornin', then?"

"...Catching the sunrise." He replies flatly, accent unruffled.

"You're a fine example ovva gent, Merlin." Eggsy says cheekily.

"Good morning, Galahad." Merlin says in a teasing tone, feinging exasperation.

The name tingles on Eggsy's skin. He might never get used to it; hearing Harry's glorious, regal codename tacked to his chest, pinned through the skin and right into the flesh of his aching heart. "Mornin'..." He says softly, wishing he could climb back into bed and fall back to sleep. Instead, he watches the sun break through the windows, painting what used to be Harry Hart's room a glittering yellow and red.

Only a month ago, Harry would have been waking to these walls, watching them glow pale green beneath flame and light. It's like fire, so warm and so beautiful, unlike the usual dreary gray of London. It's like fire, but he feels so cold.

"Mornin'." He whispers again, and the world keeps turning with little regard for his broken, bleeding heart.

**

It's been four months since Valentine and the shitstorm he unleashed on the planet. The world has nearly forgotten, thanks to several diplomatic missions from the Kingsman agents; briberies and truces with understanding leaders, threats and warnings to those less keen on letting the matter drop. Though the warnings were usually on Eggsy's part, and when he was teamed up with people like Percival or Gawain, it's splendid to watch their reactions to his rough, uncut 'street boy' methods.

It's been four months since Eggsy became Galahad, a most invaluable member of the Kingsman, the first of his 'make and model' to fit the position. Endless training, missions, marks; his life has become one successful campaign after another, with little downtime at home, which he relishes.

Four months that Eggsy pulled his mother and Daisy out from under Dean's boot, setting them up in a lovely flat that would have been his--were he able to bring himself to let all of Harry's precious memories go to waste. He's made a life for his precious family; just like he always wanted to...

Four months-- _four fucking months..._

And they tell him _now_.

" _Eggsy!_ You can't go into this without a clear head!!" Roxy calls after him. She'd been the one to tell him, only a few minutes ago, _right_ before a very important Kingsman meeting and right after his arrival at HQ. With his wrist in a sprain splint and his cheek stitched up with butterfly band aids, he storms down the hall towards the Knight's Table, desperately wishing he's been lied to... There is no new Arthur... And it can't be _him_.

He figured Merlin was too scared to show his face; too much guilt, since he was probably at the head of the snake of deceit. Figures he'd send Roxy to do the dirty work--her bond with Eggsy wasn't going to be broken by something so trivial as _the biggest secret anyone has ever kept from him._

Roxy had looked so _hurt._ But when Eggsy asked how long she'd known, she couldn't answer. She had known. She had _known_ ; the entire time.

Which made her just as bad as Merlin!! But he can't bring himself to let his anger out on her.

When he bursts into the Knight's Table chamber, Arthur's old office, his heart climbs up into his throat and stopped there, suffocating him. He can do nothing to swallow it down, and his eyes are unblinking, quickly flooding with tears that feel like fucking lava.

Merlin jerks his head up, already wearing his glasses with his tablet open.

He blinks harshly, as if Eggsy were an incredibly bright light, and drawing his shoulders up--like he was flinching away from a blow--he drops his gaze to the floor before sweeping it over to the head of the table.

Harry Hart lifts his gaze from whatever impending doom some evil villain was about to unleash on the world, and his mouth parts in a soft O of surprise.

Harry Hart...

Harry _fucking_ Hart.

He's sitting right there! Alive and breathing! In Arthur's spot!

And he is changed.

There is a slight slump in his prestigious posture, as if holding his head erect requires too much attention to detail. He has the tiniest tremble in his right hand, which is holding a gold filigree pen over a stamped Russian document...

And his face...

Eggsy's heart pinches up so _so_ tight at the destroyed glory that it is to behold Harry's face--after so long--no matter how he had changed.

He is still as gorgeous and soft-featured as ever, his mouth a thin, plush line, his jaw squared in a manner of regality. He's almost one hundred percent Harry Hart... But beneath the frames of his glasses an eyepatch is covering his left eye, the smoothest of black material. He reaches up and rakes a hand through his hair, leaving thread-bare trails through the well-kempt comb lines of thick chocolate.

"Harry..." Eggsy whispers, and a hundred nightmares come crashing into the front of his ribs, snapping them, flooding his heart, which has slithered back into place like a slimy, barbed little monster. His throat is raw and tight, and his legs are trembling with the effort it's taking to hold himself up. A hand flies out and clutches the doorframe, and he can't seem to remember how to blink, or how to breathe.

Harry just looks at him, and there's something incredibly tense and foggy in the whiskey-colored gaze of his one good eye. There's a crack in his composure, Eggsy swears he can see it, and for a moment he thinks there's light in Harry's eyes that usually paints someone's lashes before they cry. Eggsy thinks there might _also_ be about a dozen other feelings actually painting themselves across Harry's face for a split _split_ second; guilt, adoration, longing, fear, _relief..._

Harry hasn't moved; his eye still on Eggsy's face, his lips still parted. Something about the energy in the air shifts; then cracks. He closes his mouth, clears his throat, and ducks his head, as if looking at his protege has cost him a great deal of physical energy, and he is suddenly forlorn.

"Arthur..." Merlin says quietly, and Eggsy stumbles back at that, right into Roxy's waiting arms.

She supports a good deal of his weight, clasping the back of his neck with a soothing, warm hand, pinching the nerves to hold him upright like a cat caught by the scruff. "Eggsy, breathe." She whispers, trying to keep her tone light and soft enough so Merlin and Harry don't hear, but he sucks in a ragged breath, and it sounds wet and forced and broken.

It makes Harry's shoulders tense.

Eggsy swallows around the jagged, razor-sharp glass shards in his throat, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears that are stinging his eyes. He reaches a hand back for Roxy's hand, the one not curled around his neck clasping his hip, and he squeezes her wrist to ground himself. If his grip hurts her, she makes no mention of it.

She whispers to him again, even softer this time, and his head feels like all the blood has rushed out of his brain, leaving him woozy and nauseous. He wants to drop to the ground; keeps seeing Harry hitting the pavement like all his bones broke at the same time, keeps picturing the bullet exploding in the air over, and over, and over...

He sees the sky, blue and broken by clouds, the feed in half of the video cracked from the bullet impacting against the glasses... Then he sees black.

"Eggsy." Roxy says a little more firmly, and Eggsy licks his lips and stands up straight, a command he had mastered for himself long ago. He holds his head up and juts his chin out, pulling his glasses from his pocket.

"'M good, Rox, I'm... 'M good." He breaths, and then he looks back at Harry, who is looking at Merlin with a great deal of unnecessary concentration.

"Right then." He says suddenly, sitting upright and turning his head to look at the invisible figures sitting in the other chairs.

His voice, _his voice!_ It cuts Eggsy's ears, burrows into his brain and digs at his heart like a forked spoon against the inside of a pumpkin, all wet and pulpy. But it's Harry's voice, and it's in the same room as Eggsy; not cutting in and out through some echoic fragment of a dream. This is perfect... And it kills him.

"Shall we begin, gentlemen? Lancelot?" With that, Harry gestures to her with a quirk of his jaw, and she comes over to sit on his left, but not before she leads Eggsy round the other side of the table to his spot... Right beside Harry.

A very powerful, very short war rages inside of his chest before he manages to slide his chair out and fall into place with lackluster grace. He feels poiseless, but he still holds his chin up and pulls his shoulders back, breathing through his nose. It feels like there's a thousand layers of cobwebs and ash sitting in his lungs, or perhaps several thousand leagues of water over his head. Breathing is a torturous, difficult thing to do, all of a sudden. But he manages.

He slips his glasses on and then he sees the others, Gawain and Hector with their eyes downcast, Kay and Tristan sharing looks, Percival sitting across from him.

Rather than goad or chastise and tease Eggsy, the other knight looks dramatically upset by the former's reaction; as if he actually has _humanity_ and _feelings_. Maybe he didn't know that Eggsy was ill informed, maybe he thought Eggsy was being a tosser. Either way, he says nothing, merely gestured to the folder sitting in front of Eggsy that remain unopened.

Eggsy flinches, nods his head lightly, before he reaches out and opens it, scanning his eyes over the words his mind can't read. Even if it were in English, Eggsy wouldn't be able to make out a single line.  
He swears, all the words say on the page are, _He's alive, he's alive, he's alive..._

And Harry _is_ alive, and he's so close, he smells like musk and well-aged leather and something so distinctly _Harry_ that Eggsy can't even find a name for it.

He doesn't hear a word of the meeting, but he nods occasionally and keeps his eyes on Roxy for an anchor. She will, every here and there, give him a tiny, reassuring smile, or nod towards the large double painting screen that displays the maps of several munitions bunkers that they will be busting soon.

He can feel every time Merlin's eyes scan over his back, perhaps lingering too long so that Eggsy's skin feels cold and he gets the urge to turn around and topple Merlin to the ground in a rage of betrayed fury.

When the meeting is over, everyone turns off their glasses, and Eggsy tucks the frames into his breast pocket. He is still holding onto a shred of composure, the one that allowed him to stand upright and make it to his chair without Roxy bodily carrying him.

The room is deathly silent, and it is a silence that screams. It screams like that gunshot, on and on without end, high and painful in Eggsy's ears.

Then Harry speaks. Without even looking at him.

"Eggsy..." He says softly, innocent and familiar enough, but it pierces Eggsy's chest like a burning hot poker.

He shoves his chair back, and the legs screech on the wood, as he makes to stand.

"Eggsy!" Roxy exclaims, blinking up at him as if _he_ were the ghost brought back to life.

It unnerves him, his sudden urge to run and run and _run the fuck away._ It was so easy, to listen to Harry's voice, rich and eloquent, his accent untarnished, his cadence flawless...

Then he had to go and say Eggsy's name, _Eggsy,_ and it was like the world had collapsed onto Eggsy's shoulders. He has to get away. He thinks he says so, and when he turns and starts heading for the door, Merlin grabs his wrist.

"Galahad--"He calls.

" _Don't_." Eggsy says harshly, his voice steely and his word crisp. His tongue feels like lead, hell, his _body_ feels like lead, all numb and cold and heavy. He manages to lick his lips, and he tenses up like a bow, so tight, and Merlin releases him. "Jus don'."

"Eggsy, can we at least explain?" Roxy says softly, and her voice is one of the only things that has kept Eggsy together all this time. Late night call after hour long dinners and lunch meetings, anything, _anything_ to fill the void of silence in his head where all that there is most of the time is _bang, bang, bang_ on repeat.

"Oi, explain that you been lyin' ta me? All this time, yah? Explain that you didn' tell me somefing so _important_ to me?" At that, he whips around and points and accusatory finger at Harry. "Wot about you? Why ain't you dead?!" He demands, and the question isn't the one he really wants to ask, but it does the best job of summarizing.

Harry rolls his shoulders, cold and pristine as usual, and Eggsy's gut riots and freezes at the sight. "To summarize, Kingsman glasses are of a special make, designed by Merlin to be able to protect and store all the information and computer chips necessary for them to function. Bluntly speaking, the lens took the brunth of the damage."

" _Brunth?_ Your fuckin _eye_ is gone, Harry!" Eggsy exclaims.

Harry purses his lips and nods. "Yes, well, thank you for reminding me. As always, Eggsy, you are a capitol of observation."

"Don' you get fuckin' smart on me. You was _dead._ I _watched_ you _die_. I think I'd like a lil' more explaination that 'the fuckin' glasses took the bullet'."

Eggsy growls low in his throat.

Roxy's shoulders are drawn up, and she glances over Eggsy's shoulder at Merlin. Merlin looks like he might be about to cry.

Harry sighs. "Merlin, please."

Then Eggsy whips around and gives Harry an acidic glare, one that the latter actually cringes back from.

"Gala--"

He stops when the look of pure, undiluted rage on Eggsy's face sharpens.

"...Eggsy. After Harry was shot, the feed went dead. We had no way of knowing he'd survived the wound. About three months ago, the computer system alerted me that he was alive and well, in a hospital in Kentucky." He explains slowly, holding Eggsy's gaze with surprising bravery.

" _How?_ " The blue-eyed boy demands, turning back to Harry with that scowl still dragging down his soft, beautiful features.

The look on his face has Harry's lips parting again, his good eye widening and his brows raising. He looks like he's about to say something very, extremely, incredibly important when Roxy stands up from her chair.

"He used a code-name that triggered the system when the doctors entered it in their computer records." She says, looking to Merlin, who is nodding, grateful to have the attention off of him. "Merlin's computers went wailing, he sent me to go get Harry, we've been recooperating him in the ICU for the past three months at HQ."

Eggsy's jaw clenches. "So yous jus been hidin' him from me. For tree months."

"We didn't want to upset you, Eggsy." Roxy says quietly.

Merlin nods, one curt shake of his head. "We were ordered to keep this information from you until a time came when you'd be able to process it harmlessly and painlessly with a sound mind. So far, you've failed spectacularly."

Eggsy turns to rail on him, and his hand is clenched to a white knuckled fists that he wants to drive into something; _anything_. But when he sees Merlin's face--shocked, guilty, pleading--he can't. Then, one word Merlin said to him clicks into place in his brain a little more violently than the others, teeth digging into soft tissue and holding fast.

"...Ordered." Eggsy whispers, and the look on Merlin's face screams, 'I shouldn't have said that'. Roxy covers her mouth, and looks down, one arm wrapping snugly around her slender waist. She takes a tiny step back, as if the waves of Eggsy's anger are washing across the floor and she doesn't want to get her Celine ankle boots wet.

Nobody says anything to him.

Eggsy turns and gives Harry his full attention yet again. " _Ordered?_ " He repeats, and his voice is strained, his expression pinched at the brow and pulled down at the mouth. He wants to scream, and the urge to run is still tickling in his legs like dozens of needles.

Harry's gaze doesn't falter, but it does soften. "I can explain that, if you so wish it."

"If I so wish... _Fuck_." Eggsy bites, and he rakes his hand through his hair so hard he can feel the starry tingle of hairs being pulled from the root.

"Eggsy!" Roxy calls, and it's only then that the boy realizes he's turned and headed for the door. His fingers curl around the brass knob, feeling the cold, dead weight of it against his burning skin.

"Eggsy, please, sit back down." Merlin offers, and his voice actually sounds strained, like he's willing to show a little emotion and break his stoic visage if only to quell Eggsy's rage.

It's not enough.

"No..." Eggsy says softly, and he can feel their gazes burning him... Harry's, in particular. He shakes his head, "No," and yanks the door open. He gives it a violent pull once he's out, only satisfied when it slams shut and the echoic crash of wood hitting wood resonates down the hall.

He walks fast. He wishes he could run, but that would look cowardly, and Eggsy Unwin is many things, but a coward ain't one of them. He just walks as fast as he can... As far as he can.

He puts as much distance between himself and Harry Hart as possible.  


If he thought believing Harry was dead was hard, he was in for a rude awakening.

**

He doesn't get far before one hand grabs his wrist, another the back of his neck, and his nerves are pinched, and a high-pitched 'Fuck!' cracks from his throat as he's shoved to the side and down a narrow hallway. His feet trip up over themselves, he's being led along so quickly, and though he wants to rage, his fighting instincts seem to be dampened down by his extreme emotional pain.

He's not sure he recognizes this part of HQ, but it could be the rage and agony burning up his chest, blurring his vision.

"Language." Harry's voice chastises, but it's half-hearted, at best. He releases Eggsy, and Eggsy spins around with the full intention of busting his former teacher in the face with his good fist.

But... Then he looks up... And he's so positively stunned; so damn _relieved_ and _tired_ and he wants to choke on his happiness. But it hurts too much. Harry is crowded into his space, too close to be considered gentlemanly, and there's that glorious scent of his cologne, and the scent of just _him_ underneath it, spiced and clean and _fuck_. Their chests are nearly touching, and Eggsy can feel Harry's breath fanning across his cheek.

Eggsy is startled out of his stupor when a hand clasps his, and he realizes his own hand has reached up to touch the edge of the fabric patch covering Harry's left eye. Harry's hand is settled over his; not removing it, or making an attempt to push it away... Just holding it there; lightly.

He flinches, heart spiking up against his gag reflex, and drops his hand to his side, pulling it from Harry's grasp. "It's alright." Harry says quietly, leaning back and stuffing his hands unto his pockets. His suit hugs every line of his trim figure, and Eggsy rakes his eyes over him before he reaches up and scratches at the edge of the butterfly bandaid on his cheek.

He plucks his nail over the flesh, feeling the scabbing already beginning along the edge of the cut. Who punches someone in the face wearing a yellow diamond the size of a robin's egg, anyway?

Harry tuts him when he does this, and it makes Eggsy feel like doing even more irrationally defiant things. He puffs his chest up, dropping his hand despite himself, and he squares his shoulders and jaw. Even trying to force it out like this, he feels like he doesn't hold half the command that Harry does standing there nonchalantly with hands in his pockets and his shoulders lax.

"No. No, 's not alright. Nothin' is alright, Harry." Eggsy snaps, giving Harry another once-over. God, he's so imposing, just standing there, like the whole world spins under his feet and would stop if he tapped his toes twice.

Eggsy's sudden hostility--well, it's not really so sudden, but now it's coming from his mouth again--makes Harry's brows quirk up over the patch. "I had honestly hoped you'd be the one most excited about my return. Thought maybe you'd even make a few heinous zombie jokes."

"Oh, yah. Sorry. I forgot to make _heinous zombie jokes_ when I realized you wos actually alive after all this time."

"Merlin tells me you've been staying in my home."

"Don' change the subject. And yah, so? Galahad should stay in Galahad's house." Despite his efforts to keep his anger up, Eggsy feels it waning like a dripping moon. Every second he spends in Harry's presence pulls one needle free from his damaged nerves, washes one sound wave of calming pleasure after another over his fiery blood. He can't bear saying that he only moved into Harry's house to protect the priceless heirlooms in the halls, the articles hanging in his office, the butterflies cased in glass and the flower pots in the windows--Mr. Pickles in the bathroom.

"Yes, Galahad, of course. Congrats on the promotion, by the way." Harry deadpans.

"You can 'ave it back, fanks. Hate to be a bovver; sides, Merlin can hook me up wif a nicer flat up the way." Eggsy says snidely.

Harry quirks a brow. "I'm sure he'd be happy to _hook you up_ , yes. Perhaps you could have worked to get hooked up sooner?"

"Don' need your attitude, Harry."

"Then what do you need, Eggsy?"

"I need to _understand_ why you _hid_ from me!" Eggsy snaps, reaching up and--holy shit-- _shoving_ his hands against Harry's chest.

Harry is taken aback for barely a moment, his good eye widening, lips parting, and he has to take a tiny step back to regain his composure before he flies forward. His hands are iron vices around Eggsy's wrists, and Eggsy's back collides with the wall with enough force to honestly stun him.

It wears off _very_ quickly, however, and then Eggsy is glaring up at Harry with enough venom to unleash biological warfare on several continents. "You wos so important to me, Harry-- _so important_. You got no idea how I've felt these past few monfs, no idea. I been rackin' my brain, hatin' myself, blamin' the world for every lil' ting. When you been lyin' in a bed somewhere in this building, _right in my reach_ , and you didn' want to tell me? Did you... Wot, did you not want to _see_ me?? Cause I sure as shit woulda liked to see you. You got no idea the hell I been in, Harry--the _sleep I've missed_ over your sorry arse."

"Eggsy, as I've said before, I was in quite a state these past three months. Why, _why_ would I want you to see me like that?" Harry groans, releasing Eggsy's wrists when his struggling starts to make Harry--perhaps, Eggsy should start thinking of him as king--worry about the splint his sprained wrist is cast in.

"You let Merlin see you like that."

"Merlin is my Handler. He has been my good friend for a great many--"

"Rox, then?"

"Roxy was, after all, the agent sent to fetch me. It would have been highly irresponsible and inconsiderate to shove her out of the picture when she was the reason I had returned home safely."

"What wos inconsiderate wos you not lettin' me even _know_ you were alright! An' why you send for Rox, anyway? _I_ couldn' come get you? You wasn't coherent enuff to make whole sentences, but you knew you didn't want to see _me_?"

Harry tenses at that, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. "I had my reasons."

"Don' matta. _I_ wanted to see you the most, and you _hid_ from me. Wot, 'm not good enouh for you, Harry?"

"Don't say it like that, Eggsy. Please. It's very childish."

" _Playin' fuckin' hide-n-go-seek wit me wos childish!_ " Eggsy snaps, pushing Harry again, forcing him to stumble backwards.

This is bad. This is so very bad. He's pushing Harry, yes, and he's letting out steam on his old friend, Harry... But Harry is now, also, _Arthur_. Eggsy's commanding officer, his chief of charge, his mentor, his boss, the _King_ of _Kingsmen_. Eggsy could lose his position for being such a right prat...

But Harry had been no better.

Flushed with anger, some emotion actually touching the subtle features of his handsome face, Harry growls, hands lightning quick as he reaches out and takes Eggsy's wrists again. He pins them together, pushes the boy against the wall so hard that a picture frame not far off shivers with the quake. He gathers both of Eggsy's wrists into one hand and shoves them over the boy's head, even as he protests and moves to kick his knee up into Harry's gut.

It'd be less than what he deserved. Mostly, it's just instinct and combat training talking.

But the king, despite having less dexterous peripheral vision, butts Eggsy's knee down with his hand before he presses his own against Eggsy's thighs, digging the thumb of his other hand into Eggsy's hip to pin his waist against the wall with a hard shove.

"Get the _fuck_ off me, Harry!" Eggsy snaps, and tears sting his eyes and anger pools in his gut. He bucks his hips, grinding up against Harry, who has suddenly crushed their bodies into a seamless line.

"Eggsy, _stop_." Harry says sternly, and something in his voice has gone cold as ice, and there's a tremble on his lips when he says it.

Eggsy stares up at him in stock-still wonder, eyes wide, brows pinched, his mouth gaping to let heavy breaths in and out. He's completely caged in against the wall, Harry's body a flawless streamline pressed seamlessly to his. Maybe it's the height thing--maybe it's a _Harry Hart_ thing--but Eggsy's never fit this well against another person. All the birds he's chased have had their knobby shoulders and poky elbows and sharp hips digging into some or other meaty spot on his body.

But Harry... Harry is _perfect_. His hips bracket against Eggsy's, his chest a smooth plane, and he's not _that_ much bigger than Eggsy, no, but it's _just_ _enough_ to get Eggsy's heart racing and his mouth dry as a cotton field.

His head feels fuzzy and clogged, his senses drinking Harry in, each point of contact prickling with the deepest desire for their cells to simply mesh and _join_. The entire world shrinks down to this one moment, which _Harry_ trapping him up against the wall, and him losing every shred of desire to get away.

They're holding fiery eye contact with each other, and if Harry can read Eggsy's mind, Eggsy is fucked.

Blood floods south, and Eggsy has to snap his mouth shut and chew on his tongue to fight the sudden arousal pooling in his gut. His cock twitches in his slacks, suddenly waking up in his briefs, and no. That's not okay, because he's pressed up to Harry so tightly that sporting a sudden chub in his pants would be _beyond_ mortifying and _completely_ inappropriate.

He drops his gaze, but then it lands on Harry's mouth, and that's quite a mistake, because the king darts his tongue out to wet his lips, squeezing Eggsy's waist even tighter.

"If I try to explain, will you listen? Or will you stand there and argue while I'm handing you the god's honest truth?" Harry asks quietly, and his voice is low and dark, something that twists a coil of excitement up in his gut.

There's a long pause, where Eggsy really contemplates telling Harry to go fuck himself, then--for an even _shorter_ pause--he thinks of asking Harry to _fuck him_. _That_ , he realized quickly, would not go over well.

So instead, Eggsy licks his lips, flushing up his neck when Harry's good eye follows the motion. "...Alright. Go on, then."

Harry lets out a low sigh, the sound almost grateful, and he's standing so close that when he dips his head forward, his hair brushes Eggsy's forehead.

"I... I am not actually quite sure where to start."

Eggsy lets his head fall back against the wall, and Harry looks at the bared line of his throat, as if contemplating touching it with his gorgeous mouth.

"Why don' you start at the beginnin' then?"

"What would be the beginning? When we met, or when I died?"

"Fake died." Eggsy says. Then he starts. " _Why_ would we have to go back to when we met?"

Harry shakes his head, running his thumb against the bare skin of Eggsy's un-splinted wrist. "No, you said fake died. We'll start there."

"Harry--"

"You obviously saw me get shot. Not sure how you managed to crack into my computer system to get the feed from my glasses, but that's surely something we'll speak of later."

"Give Merlin a run for his money." Eggsy grins cheekily.

Something about his expression is so fond and _light_ that, suddenly, Harry is smiling down at him, his eyes soft and warm. "Perhaps."

"Go on then. I won' interrupt again, I guess."

"You guess." Harry says warmly, shaking his head. It's strange, that they're so close, so intimate, and the king is still so in control.

Eggsy wonders if Harry can feel his heartbeat raging in his blood, his skin on fire. He swallows hard, jutting his chin out. "So, you went down... You woke up in the hospital." A grin touches Eggsy's mouth, a shot at bravado that he desperately needs to take. "You fink ov me first ting?"

Brows shoot up over the line of the eyepatch. "I was _shot_ in the _head_ , Eggsy. The brain is quite a fickle creature." Harry deadpans, reaching up to touch the eyepatch. Eggsy instantly misses the contact on his hip. "I suppose I should say that I'm glad Valentine was a terrible shot, and too foolish to _make sure_ I was dead. The bullet hit my glasses, fractured the left lense, and I went down... When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, and my eye was gone. Apparently, despite the wound not being incredibly extensive, the trauma affected my brain quite a bit." He pauses, looking down at the floor with a contemplative, soft expression. "As I said, _fickle_. I'm lucky I recovered so well; thanks to Merlin, I'm sure. I was mostly unconscious for the first month, but the second I had enough motor skills to speak, I gave them a name I knew would have Merlin alerted promptly of my state."

"Recovered so well, eh?"

When Harry drops his hand back to Eggsy's hip--almost by instinct, without thought like it belongs there--he shakes his head, looking disgraced. "I barely started walking again two months ago. I've been in recuperative therapy ever since I returned. Do you've any idea how painful that is for me to admit? That I was weak, that I was honestly helpless for a time? Any idea?"

Rather than answer, Eggsy juts his lip out in a pout and drops his gaze.

"No. You don't. And I'm glad I had heavy incentive and thorough medication, otherwise I'd probably still be lying awake wishing I could chuck my body out the nearest window."

"Glad you didn' have the strength for that, then." Eggsy teases, and Harry's thumb digs into his hip in warning, but Harry is smiling.

"I am, too. Then I would have missed out on the pleasantness of this conversation."

"So... Why not me?"

"Eggsy." Harry grumbles.

"No, really, why not me? Why couldn' I see you?" Eggsy demands, and the heat that has settled in his gut from arousal is thinning, leaving him with that residual anger rusting away at his insides.

The king sighs, and when he pushes forward, he squeezes Eggsy's hip and wrists, touching their foreheads. "I told you once, I didn't want you to see me like that."

"Like wot, exactly? Said so yourself, the wound wasn't extensive, and, obviously, you aren't limpin' round wif a cane slurrin' your words. Tryna make me feel special? 'M flattered, Harry, but you owe me more'n that.

Harry lifts his gaze to Eggsy's, like fiery whiskey, and there's a static crinkle between the two of them. It steals Eggsy's breath, and he's incredibly surprised when Harry's hand slides up his ribs, skims over his erratic heart, and then cups against his throat. Surely, he can feel that heartbeat, raging and unrelenting, with his palm pressed perfectly over the soft spot of Eggsy's throat. Surely, he can see the way Eggsy's pupils have blown and his lips have parted, their bodies slotted together like perfectly cut pieces.

"...I can't, Eggsy." Harry whispers, his breath hot and clean against Eggsy's lips, and Eggsy is panting freely, fighting not to fall apart in Harry's grasp.

"Can't wot?" He asks, challenging, and before he gets a real answer, Harry's ducking down and sealing their mouths together.

It might be something of a cliche that Harry Hart, gentleman spy, does _not_ kiss like a gentleman... But, fuck, there's no other way to say it. He simply _does not_ kiss like a respectable man.

It's hot and carnal and demanding, leaving no room for tenderness or politeness. It's so damn incredible, however, that Eggsy can't seem to bring himself to care about how he's suddenly completely winded and dominated.

His teeth nip at Eggsy's lip and his tongue is prying Eggsy's mouth open, delving inside and sweeping across all of Eggsy's tastebuds like sin itself.

Eggsy whines in his throat, and none of his training can prepare him fo the way he loses all of his restraint the second he tastes Harry's lips. He thrusts his tongue against Harry's with as much enthusiasm, grinding his hips up against Harry's groin, loving the way he can feel the fucking _glorious_ line of Harry's cock straining against his bespoke trousers. Now, he wouldn't consider himself a slut, but Eggsy moans like a fucking slut at the feel of Harry Hart's cock grinding against his through layers of friction.

He wants this... He wants this, _god_ , he wants this so bad. Harry's mouth is like heaven, his lips gentle, his teeth rough, his tongue strong. He kisses like a starved, dying man, the hand on Eggsy's throat sliding up to card through his hair, holding Eggsy's head back, throat bared and body drawn tight as his mouth is ravaged.

Harry tastes like beautifully aged mint, and Eggsy wants to drown in his arms. He's light headed, letting himself be used, and he's risen onto his toes to get better access to that mouth on his, his hands grasping and tangling through empty air, wishing he could touch Harry, wishing he could dig his nails into the skin and tear Harry the fuck _apart_.

The hand holding Eggsy by the hair rakes down his throat, palming his erratic heartbeat before sliding down to wrap around Eggsy's hip. Harry draws the smaller male closer, holding their bodies flush, Eggsy's hands still pinned high over his head.

He wriggles, moaning helplessly against Harry's frantic mouth, and he jerks his hands against his hold. Harry seems to finally-- _thank fuck_ \--catch on, and he drops Eggsy's wrists, using his freed hands to cup either side of Eggsy's face, his thumb pressing with unforgiving weight across the butterfly bandaids holding his cheek together. Eggsy latches onto Harry's wrists, holding those strong, calloused hands to his skin, wanting to touch every inch of Harry possible, but finding himself to afraid to let go of his iron grip.

The energy between them crackles, and it's so hot and the air is so thick and heavy... Eggsy can barely breathe. He wants all that Harry is to burn him to ashes, and he wants to wreck Harry like a fine Faberge egg thrown at the floor, a shattered stained-glass window; a thousand shards that only Eggsy can rearrange into a masterpiece.

He allows his hands to run up Harry's strong arms, and when he reaches the taller man's shoulders, he moans, open mouthed and filthy, before he's threading his fingers through Harry's hair. It's so thick, so _fucking_ soft, and he wants to pull on it while Harry's settled between his legs, wants to lace his fingers through it while Harry's sucking hickies into his skin, crushing their sweaty bodies together.

The contact seems to break whatever incredible veil of zero inhibitions has fallen over them, and the reaction is immediate. It could go one of two ways--a lot filthier, or incredibly disappointing.

Then Harry parts their mouths, breathes roughly, and Eggsy tries to chase his mouth, and manages to snag Harry's lip with his teeth. Harry groans--fucking _groans_ \--at that, and the sound goes straight to Eggsy's dick, and he whines when he feels a slick of precum leak against his thigh.

"Harry--"Eggsy breaks off, because, god, _Harry_! He's alive, breathing, beautiful, and he's got Eggsy crushed in his arms and Eggsy can feel his mouth tingling from the roughness of his kiss.

Then Harry pulls back; more-so he shoves Eggsy away. It's sudden, and incredibly rough, the way he roughs him out of his personal space like one might discard an enemy. He keeps him pinned to the wall, at arms length, and Eggsy is pleased to see Harry is panting, stray chocolate hairs fallen out of place, the marks from his fingers raking through leaving generous trails from their wake. The action, however, makes his blood feel cold, and he stares up at Harry in confusion, expecting something _more_.

But Harry makes no move to close the space between them again.

The world seems to tilt on its axis, Eggsy's body drawn bow tight, every nerve tingling wildly, and he has his hands braced against the wall, his arms having fallen from Harry's shoulders when he was pushed back.

Harry looks... Well, no need to be polite; he looks like a fucking _wrecked animal_. His pupil is blown, hair mussed, and his mouth is red and abused, and Eggsy wonders if his looks just as well fucked and delectable. His shoulders are squared, jaw tense and dropped, and he's still trying to gather his wits about himself from the way he still hasn't said anything.  
Eggsy wants to say something. He wants to draw Harry back in for another kiss; a gentler one. He wants to tell Harry everything he's felt, wants to give Harry everything he has to give, wants to make Harry feel... _something_.

There's something fiery about Harry, something pure and violently untamed that still lingers in the tiny threads holding him upright, in the set of his mouth, the glow of his beautiful hazel eye...

Eggsy wants to do  _something_. He wants to _be_ something.

But he's frozen by fear, and the look on Harry's face has gone from molten passion and confused pain to something colder. It's solidified, shifted like plates of ice falling back into place over the churning sea. He's slate still, his expression going soft and smooth as polished glass. He takes a long breath through his nose, rough and loud.

His composure has returned, and he is ever the sophisticated, suave, painfully unattainable and aloof knight Eggsy met not so long ago.

It kills him...

When Harry speaks, finally, it's low and deadly and it fucking _hurts_.

"Forget that ever happened."

Eggsy's world comes crashing around him, like broken glass raining from the sky, and his body goes limp and cold, and he slumps against the wall beneath Harry's hold. He sucks in a breath, means to use it to speak, but it just gets trapped behind the knot that had formed like a vice in his windpipe. He can't blink, just stares at Harry with a betrayed, completely baffled expression for as long as Harry will hold his gaze.

Then Harry lets him go, steps back to straighten his jacket. He rakes a hand through his hair combing it back to perfection with deft fingers, before he turns on his heel... And walks away.

He fucking walks away.

His stride doesn't even falter, and he turns down the hall and vanishes from sight before Eggsy finds himself lying so heavily against the wall that he nearly slides down onto his ass.

He reaches up with shaking fingers to touch his kiss-swollen lips, his eyes fluttering shut at the way he can still taste Harry's clean mouth on his, still feel those silken lips bruising his, still feel that body claiming his...

There's no way.

There's no _fucking_ way he can forget.

Harry Hart is a cruel, selfish bastard; and he's out of his fucking mind.

Eggsy stands there for what feels like hours, barely breathing, thinking of Harry's fingers in his hair, on his skin, body pressed to his so perfectly, the way he looked at him before it all went, somehow, wrong...

Without the flare of passion and the warmth of Harry's touch, he feels the pain splintering through his sprained wrist from the way Harry was holding him, feels a tingling burn bursting in his split cheek where Harry gripped his face too roughly in the throes of passion.

There are loud, clipped footsteps coming his way, and he cups his tentative hand over his mouth, rubbing his thumb along the wet seam. When Roxy comes around the corner,--he's not gonna lie, his heart sinks--she gives a startled exclamation of his name before she's on him, touching his face, petting his hair, asking him pointless questions.

"Eggsy, are you alright, love? Honest, Eggsy, I'm so, _so_ sorry. Are you alright?" She demands, and he lets his head drop onto her shoulder, feeling safe in her company, but no less confused.

"No..." He grumbles, his voice a tiny, thin husk...

No; he is not alright.

Not by a long shot.

He really _is_ in for a rude awakening.


	2. Catch My Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy laughs quietly at that, ducking his head so he can watch Harry through the fringe of his lashes.
> 
> He's so beautiful... So damn perfect and regal, like a lion. Everything he does is calculated, like a predator that knows they have all the time in the world. Harry is like the sun; Eggsy feels like if he stares at him too long he may be blinded.
> 
> Losing his eyesight wouldn't be such a bad thing if it meant the last thing he saw was Harry Hart.
> 
> Harry catches him looking, a small smile touching his lips. "Something wrong, Eggsy?"
> 
> Eggsy grins, but it doesn't quite reach his blue eyes. "Everythin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, looks like Eggsy and Harry are just scratching the surface of the fuck fest I've laid out for them. It's gonna be a buffet banquet, I say! Forgive me for not having more clever things to say. I'll get better!!
> 
> -xo Mo, [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)

Eggsy throws open the front door to his flat, slamming it shut behind him and pressing his back against it. He groans low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the walls shrink around him. Somehow, it feels better breaking down here in the comfort of Harry's old house than it did at HQ.

He'd only hugged Roxy for a few minutes before he very gently pushed her away, insisting he was fine, and told her he just wanted to be alone.

Of course, she didn't listen. She was too good a mate to simply abandon him, and so she had led him to Merlin's office. Though Eggsy didn't go in, because fuck Merlin, Roxy arranged for him to recieve a new flat. Of course, with Kingsman resources being very particular, Merlin snags Eggsy a flat that is precariously between Harry's house and the tailor's shop.

Eggsy thanks Roxy. Roxy thanks Merlin.

After catching a taxi home, he feels so shaky that he can barely stand.

"...JB!" He calls out, needing the comfort of a familiar face.

There's a scuffling sound in another room, then the hurried, snorting breaths of a dog with a smashed face. JB comes trotting along, his collar tags jingling, and when Eggsy sees him, his heart feels a dozen times lighter.

"C'mere, boy. Give your da some love." Eggsy breaths, and he lets himself slide down the door so that the pug-nosed pup can breath heavily and leap onto his legs.

JB doesn't press like other people might. He doesn't go through the motions of humans trying to understand grief or the pressure of heartache. Instead, he curls on Eggsy's lap and lets himself be used for whatever purpose he can fill which, currently, is being pet gingerly between his rolls of fat.

They sit there for about a half hour before Eggsy hears the unlocked door snik above him, and then he's scrambling up, tossing JB off and spinning around as the front door swings open.

His wallowing and self-loathing is cut short by the high giggle that cuts the air.

" _Mum?_ _" Eggsy exclaims, and she lifts her golden-curled head and grins up at him. JB does circles of excitement in front of her._

"My lovely boy! Look at you! Is that another new suit?" Michelle inquires, toting Daisy on her hip with the pram folded down rolling behind her. "A perk o' workin' at a tailor's, isn' that right, my love?" At that, she turns her face to Daisy and kisses one of her fat cheeks.

" _Daisy!_ _My lil' flower." Eggsy starts, and he reaches out and takes her from his mother's arm before the older woman can even offer._

"'Ggsy!" Daisy mumbles, taking her fist out of her thumb to wrap both arms in a death grip around his neck.

Eggsy loves it. He really  _needs_ _this right now--the comfort that Daisy gives him, the way she doesn't have to understand what's going on to be enough for him. He closes his eyes and buries his face in her neck, inhaling her soft scent, soap and baby powder and warm milk._

"Baby, wot happened to your face? And your hand! Another 'freak tailor accident', yah?" Michelle asks, cupping Eggsy's cheek, touching the tiny bandaids there.

He snickers, bouncing Daisy lightly against his chest. She's already starting to nod off on his shoulder. "Somefin' like that, I guess."

"God, you need to be more careful. Please--for me." His mother chides, then reaches out and pets her fingers through Daisy's hair. "She's been goin' on and on bout you all day. Couldn' get her to lie down, couldn't feed her. Nothin." Michelle says, and she sets down Daisy's day bag by the back of a sofa.

Eggsy's eyes narrow, and his grin widens. "You droppin' 'er on me cause you can't get her ta lie down then? Cold shoulder, mum."

"Oh, hush, you. I thought you could use the company, and I know I can use the time to get to market. Do some runnin' around without the little lady. Wot you say, Daisy? Wanna stay wif big brother for a while?" At that, she reaches out a tickles the underside of Daisy's chin, snapping her out of her half-sleep state instantly.

"'Ggsy! G-ggy!" Daisy chirps, then she looks down and squeals like a tiny cat. "JB! JB!"

The pug snorts loudly, smiling up at the tiny Unwin with his tongue lolling out.

"Oi, why you got his name right before mine?" Eggsy teases, kissing Daisy's face wildly to make her let out a high peal of laughter. Eggsy laughs at that, setting his sister on the floor so that the pug can pounce at her and--with incredible gentleness--tap his paw against her knee, or press his cold nose to her cheeks.

JB is a true gentleman, he is. It's as if he knows exactly how breakable Daisy is, how he must treat her like a flower just starting to bloom.

"So, how long you gonna be out?" Eggsy asks, toeing off his shoes and loosening the knot of his tie.

"Just a few hours, I promise. Gotta get back home to clean the flat anyway. I'll be seein' you real soon, my loves." His mother promises, dipping forward to kiss his split cheek.

"Careful at that tailor shop o' yours. Don' know wot I'd do if I lost my boy."

"I'll be fine, mum. Promise. It's a  _tailor shop_ _. You go on now. Bring me back somefin' nice, yah?"_

"Oh, you cheeky brat." She teases, stooping to kiss the top of Daisy's head, who has now gathered all of JB's wrinkles into her lap, uncoiling the tight furl of his tail to watch it spring back up. It is, apparently, the most entertaining thing in the universe. "Be good, love."

"Mmm. Mmm!" Daisy replies, and JB plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek when she pulls his tail again.

With that, Eggsy's mother turns on her heel and swings the door open. "Love you both!" She calls, and then she's gone. He doesn't even get the chance to tell her he'll be moving by the end of the week.

Not like it's a huge deal. He's hung his suits on the rack in front of Harry's, and all of his old clothes fit into his own dresser, which now sits awkwardly beside Harry's own.

Thankfully, most thoughts about such unpleasant things as moving and leaving the comfort of Harry's home leave his mind when he looks down at his baby sister and the pug-nosed pup.

Eggsy feels about a thousand times better; less alone, less angry, less sad. He sighs and tugs his tie from around his throat, reaching up to unbutton the top few white snaps of his dress shirt. "Can you keep an eye on her for me for a min, JB?" He asks, and the pug gives a loud 'boof', causing Daisy to giggle and clap. She takes fistfuls of his fat rolls and tugs, rolling him over onto his side, where he pants happily. "You're aces, JB."

With that, Eggsy trots off upstairs to the master's to change out of his suit into more casual clothes. It's not that he doesn't try to be suave all the time, after becoming a Kingsman. He simply can't do it. He can't see himself lounging about in a waistcoat or fancy flannels...

But he does pull on Harry's old robe over his trackies and tank top; the red fleece with the pockets and the sash that cinches around his waist like a very thin-armed hug. It smells like Harry's spiced cologne, even after all these months, so comfortable and smooth against Eggsy's bare arms, and he sighs contentedly when he's situated in the robe's incredibly familiar embrace. He probably shouldn't have gotten so attached--especially now that Harry has returned, and will probably want all of his things back--but, to be honest, would Harry notice if just one thing went missing? Afterfour months? Come on.

It's still very rather in the day and, honestly, Eggsy doesn't normally get ready to settle down with so much daylight to burn. But his day has been long and trying, and if he happens to nod off on the couch once he gets his sister to fall asleep, it's nobody's business but his and, maybe, JB's.

He's debating whether or not he should put on some socks, maybe try that new pair of slippers Roxy got him from a trip to Paris.

That's when he hears the sound of a lock being flipped over, metal teeth dragging into place. Then the floor creaks, and the sound of the front door swinging shut makes Eggsy's blood run colder than ice.

"JB?" He calls instantly, rolling over his bed and snatching his gun out from under the pillow. He butts the clip into place with his palm heel, hating his his wrist protests beneath the splint, and holds the nose up, waiting for another sound.

There's no response from the pug.

Then he remembers...

"Daisy?!" And all thought process goes out the window, and he goes charging through the house, bare-footed and terrified, takes the stairs three at a time, and slides into the living room with the gun still aimed high. He cocks it against the sight of someone standing in the entryway, tall, dark figure with their back turned to him.

Then Harry glances over his shoulder, sees him there, and frowns. "Come now, Eggsy. Put that down. We're in the presence of a lady." With that he spins completely around so that Eggsy can see Harry has hoisted Daisy up off the floor into the cage of his arms.

JB is on Harry's feet, grinning up at him and panting cheekily, his tightly wound tail thumping against the side of his thigh. When he sees Eggsy standing across the hall, he barks at him. He looks so god damn  _happy_ _, as if he's saying, 'Look, da, Harry's here! I love Harry!'_

"Harry." Eggsy chokes out, twisting his wrist about to tuck the gun behind his back when Daisy looks over at him. She's idly chewing on her thumb, and when she sees him, she grins and pats Harry's shoulder ecstatically.

"You never changed the locks, apparently." Harry says dryly, and he jingles the keys to get Daisy's attention back. She plays with the brassy door openers for a split second before she looks back at her big brother.

"'Ggsy! 'Ggy!" The tiny blond exclaims, and then she looks up at Harry and claps his cheeks with her tiny fists. She squishes the globes, and Harry's mouth drops open in what looks like genuine surprise. Her hand paws curiously at his eyepatch.

"Oi, Daisy, no!" Eggsy snaps, and he pops the clip and sets the gun on the mantle before he moves to take her from Eggsy's grasp.

"It's quite alright, Eggsy." Harry says, and he's...  _Holy shit_ _, he's smiling._ His eye is all crinkled up, his cheeks tinted pink beneath Daisy's prying hands, though he's removed the one from the patch over his ruined eye. He's holding her against his chest so comfortably, as if Daisy were a fully automated weapon, or a glass of well-aged brandy, like she belongs there. "I don't believe we've actually met. This lovely lady is your sister, yes?"

Eggsy's chest clenches, like his ribs have curled round his heart and have pressed in. He feels like something is standing on his chest. He chokes up some words, to hide his discomfort at how the sight of Harry Hart, gentleman spy, is holding his tiny sister like some domestic ponce. "Y-yeah... This is, uhm... This is Daisy." He says, crossing the room. His eyes are locked to Harry's face as Harry holds the tiny Unwin away from himself, their eyes locking as he feigns the most  _excited smile_ _Eggsy has ever seen._

"Well, Miss Daisy, it's incredibly lovely to meet you. I'm Harry Hart." He says in a much lighter voice than Eggsy has ever heard him use, the tone bright and still somehow so elegant. He offers her his hand and she locks her fist around his finger. With that, Harry ducks his head down and plants a tiny kiss on her knuckles. It makes Daisy giggle loudly, and she lets her head fall back, curls brushing Harry's forearm, and she squeals in delight when she sees Eggsy again.

Eggsy laughs, reaching out to pinch one of her cheeks. "Thas my lovely flower. Harry works wif your bruv down at the tailor's. He's been..."

They share a glance, one electrified with tension like steel cables.

"On holiday." Eggsy snorts, and Harry's smile softens at the humor. "Can you tell Harry hello? Nice to meet you?"

The blue-eyed cherub tips her head back up, and Harry waist patiently, whiskey-gold eye gleaming with something Eggsy doesn't recognize. "'Ello!" With that, she waves her arms excitedly, and Harry laughs.

Oh,  _shit_ _. He laughs._

Eggsy thinks his jaw has made very good friends with the floor, and he reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. The sound forces his stomach into knots, like some Celtic mind fuck, and his heart is thumping in his throat.

"Oh, Eggsy, she's just lovely." Harry says warmly, before he's dipping his head to kiss the crown of Daisy's head. "A perfect little flower, indeed."

Eggsy chuckles breathlessly at that, the sound coming out strained through his tightening throat. "Yah, she's... She's the best."

"She seems a bit fussy. Nap time?" Harry asks, and when he meets Eggsy's gaze, there's something so pure and undiluted in his stare that Eggsy nearly chokes.

His tongue feels so fluffy, like he's had a bad reaction to something, and there's something rioting about in the knots of his stomach, thousands of wings fluttering about. Something presses up under his lungs, and he's breathless and wired.

"..."

"Eggsy?" Harry asks again, brows furrowing, and Eggsy mentally berates himself with a hammer.

"Yah. Yah, actually, my mum brought her over so she could sleep. She tends to prefer my company." He rises onto his toes proudly, stufthing his hands into the pockets of the robe.

Harry laughs softly at that. "Well, of course. Nothing quite so soothing as big brother's company."

"Damn right." Eggsy preens, and Harry gives him another soft laugh before he offers Daisy over to him.

"Well then, we'd best be getting the young lady off to a nap. It was very nice to meet you, Daisy. I hope I'll be seeing you again very soon." He offers, and she grins at him, blue eyes sparkling.

"'Arry!" She chirps, and both men are taken aback by the brilliance of her voice.

Harry looks at Eggsy, eye wide, lips parted in wonder.

And Eggsy. Eggsy just laughs excitedly, his cheeks flushing as he steps in closer, wrapping his arm around Daisy's tiny waist. "She's nevva gotten someone's name that quickly. Fact, all she can say right is JB."

"JB!" Daisy shouts, proving Eggsy's point, and the pug hops up and wags his tail at that, snorting wetly against Eggsy's ankle.

Eggsy laughs again, disbelief and adoration staining his voice. "That's amazin'. She must really like you..."

The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them, and then Eggsy realizes how close he and Harry are, how Harry's arm is bent against his waist, how his arm is trapped between Daisy's body and Harry's chest. The points of contact between their bodies tingle, and Eggsy looks up at Harry's face.

Quite  the mistake, if he's being honest, because Harry's face has gone cold and distant again, something almost painfully unreadable churning in his golden gaze. He's staring at Eggsy like the blue-eyed boy has just announced that he's beheaded the Queen, or that he's poured out a bottle of forty year old Vermouth--not nearly as illegal, but just as atrocious.

Eggsy clears his throat, letting Daisy crowd into his space, wrapping her arms around his neck to give a wet kiss to his cheek. "I'll just, uh... I'll just go put her down."

"In a bed?" Harry says quietly, and there isn't enough inflection in his voice for Eggsy to feel the moment of distress has passed.

"Oh, no, no. I have a lil crib here for her. Since my mum brings her over so often, an' such." Eggsy trails off, clearing his throat again because, wow, did it just get incredibly hot and hard to breathe? "Uh, c'mon then, JB. You've gotta keep your eye on my flower for me, yah?"

_'Boof.'_

"Atta boy. C'mon." With that, Eggsy turns on his heel, bouncing Daisy as he dips down and snatches up his little sister's day bag. With ease, he tips out her pacifier and offers it to her. Her lips curl around the rubber with ease, and she begins to chew on it instead of her own fist. "Good girl, Daisy. Thas it."

He takes his time putting Daisy down in the spare bedroom because he doesn't want to go back out to see Harry. He doesn't want to hear anything Harry has to say. So he sings to Daisy, bouncing her lightly, lulling her off to nap-land. He lays her down and gently rubs her tummy, watching her lids droop heavy as he hums a tune contentedly.

When Daisy is finally asleep--in a slumber that Eggsy feels can't be woken by his presence leaving the room--he reaches down to pat JB's head where he's come to curl up on the floor beside Daisy's little crib. There's no way he can delay it much longer.

He resigns with a heavy huff, dropping his shoulders back and lifting his chin up.

"Here goes nothin." He breaths, and tugs on the knot around his waist.

When he goes back into the sitting room, Harry has sat down in the lounge-chair closest to the window with a cup of tea. He's also set up a cup for Eggsy on the round coffee table, steam still curling from the pale bronze liquid.

"I hope you're in the mood for a nice spot of chamomile. Honestly, Eggsy, you kept all of the paintings--and I know how you feel about them--but you couldn't stay stocked up on some decent Earl Gray? Even black tea? I swear, my tea collection has been ransacked and you've not even the decency to..." Harry trails off when he sees Eggsy standing beside the lounge sofa, several sections of thick, blond hair falling into his face. Harry smiles at him softly, shaking his head when he looks Eggsy up and down. "I'd hardly noticed you were in your jams already." He registers the material, and quirks a brow. "And my robe, as well. Is it quite as comfortable as I remember?"

Eggsy's eyes narrow, and he stuffs his hands deeply into his pockets. "Yah, s'right. Think I'll be keepin' it. At least it never died and came back to life on me." He deadpans, and Harry snorts... But, damn, in a very gentlemanly way.

"Such charm, Eggsy."

"Maybe I shoulda trown everythin' out."

Harry rises and turns to face him dead on, lifting his tea cup to his lips. It's one of the fragile porcelain things, the kind painted with roses, that Eggsy was afraid of using. "Then why didn't you?"

There's a long, terrible pause between them. Then Eggsy shrugs, leans down to take his tea cup from the table, and looks up at Harry with an icy glint in his morning blue eyes. "Guess I couldn't stand to see everythin' I had o' you taken from me quite so easily as you were." He says slowly, not leaving any room for Harry to pull his gaze away. He takes a sip of his tea... Fuck, it's perfect, despite Harry never agreeing with how sweet Eggsy takes it. "Guess I wanted to hang onto you a lil harder than necessary."

Harry drops his gaze down to his tea cup, takes a tiny drink, then sets it down and turns his full attention back to Eggsy. "Come along, then. Let us have our tea while it's still warm." With that, he gestures for Eggsy to sit down, and Eggsy slumps into the sofa with as little grace as possible, earning an eyebrow raise and a mouth twitch from Harry.

Eggsy's glad Harry can let the conversation topic drop.

"Cheers, then." He says sarcastically, before he takes another drink of his tea. They're both quiet, drinking their tea, not needing to fill the gap in with words.

It's a little strange, Eggsy supposes, how he's actually incredibly comfortable with Harry here with him, the way it reminds him of old times. The only difference is that, in the past, Eggsy's mouth would have been running, and Harry would have been smiling politely, taking each word and listening in a way that Eggsy had never had anyone listen to him before.

What's even more strange is that Harry is sitting in his ghastly flower-printed chair, sipping his tea, holding composure as if  _nothing fucking happened_ _earlier._ How he can sit there pressing those beautiful lips to the rim of his delicate tea cup when mere hours ago he'd used them to kiss bruises into Eggsy's mouth is bound to be the eighth wonder of the world.

It makes something riot in Eggsy's blood, and he downs the rest of his tea about half-way through.

Harry pauses to look up at him when he rises from his seat, the sun painting him bold as brass through the window, and god, if he isn't so beautiful it hurts. "'M gonna go check on Daisy. Make sure she's doin' alright, yah?" Eggsy says a little quicker than intended.

"Of course." Harry replies, taking another sip of tea, like the world could be blowing up out beyond their window and he'd sit there finishing his tea, thank you very much.

Eggsy nods, pressing his mouth to a fine line before he turns on his heel and struts off to the guest bedroom.

Sure enough, Daisy's still sleeping like a lovely little rock, JB sawing logs on the floor, his paws twitching, legs extended. Eggsy really, really wishes he could sit in the guest bedroom forever, never having to come out to see Harry again. It's terrible, how he's dreading seeing him for the simple fact that he is acting completely normal.

Never mind the kiss--even though Eggsy really, really doesn't see how he can simply forget being mouth-fucked by Harry Hart. Eggsy wants to understand how Harry could sit there completely nonchalant as if he wasn't dead to Eggsy nearly twelve hours ago.

"...This sucks. Oh, fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ _."_

"Eggsy? What was that?" Harry calls politely, and Eggsy jumps so hard he catches his elbow on one of the decorative shelves holding tiny figurines made of glass and carved wood and stone. A particularly ugly little gargoyle topples over, and when it rolls off the shelf, Eggsy ducks down and snatches it by its fat head before it hits the ground.

"Nothin! Nothin', Im fine! Just, uh..." He looks down at the pug snoring on the floor. "JB!"

When he says it, the brown-eyed pup lifts his head, drawing in a long, sharp noise that sounds like a chainsaw firing to life.

"Very well." Harry replies.

Eggsy sighs heavily, and when he dips his head down to stare at the stone gargoyle, its broad face and gaping mouth seem to be mocking him. "Little wanker." Eggsy huffs before he places it back on the shelf--next to a giggling glass pixie and a smooth aspen-wood unicorn.

Composing himself, Eggsy turns on his heel and leaves the room, tromping back to the sitting room whilst making very little sound. He pauses in the hallway when he realizes Harry is no longer where he left him, and that his cup of tea is gone.

For a minute, Eggsy's heart gallops, and he feels like all the weight of the world is pulling down on the crown of his head, trying to topple him over. There's no reason to feel this sudden panic, but he stumbles to the side and catches himself on the back of the sofa.

"Harry..." He calls, but his voice is a tiny whisper. There's no reply... " _Harry!_ _"_

"I'm  _upstairs_ _, Eggsy." C_ omes the deep voice he'd missed, and Eggsy's gut feels like it's suffered a sudden drop, and he charges up the stairs with almost zero composure, his calm out the window.

When he slides past the master's he twists around... And catches sight of Harry in his study.

He's taken off his suit jacket, laid it gingerly across the back of his office chair. His back is to Eggsy, the straps of his suspenders cutting black lines against the crisp white curve of his back beneath his dress blouse. He's wearing his shoulder holster, a strangely erotic idea, that beneath the smooth jacket of his suit, the pistols were so easily hidden.

Eggsy's heart just about throws a party behind his ribs, fireworks and streamers, and he leans against the doorframe and lets out a long, heavy sigh.

"Don' wanna sound like a bird, Harry, but you can' go all Penn and Teller on me like that." Eggsy teases, but his voice is worn thin by the panic he'd felt when he thought Harry was gone; dead. After all, he'd had incredibly lucid dreams before--though they always followed the same two roads; a bullet in Harry's head, or his. This would have been a new level of fucked up, to allow Eggsy to believe for as long as he did...

But there's Harry, leaning a hand against his desk, looking at the clippings from the front pages of about a hundred newspapers.

In that moment, Eggsy wants to know it all. He already knows the story behind a handful of the front pages; but he wants them all. He wants to know what Harry was doing during the  _Wipe Out_ _, or_ _Kumquat May_ , and  _The Judge and The Rent Boy_ _._ _Ooh_ , especially that one. He wants to know who Harry saved when  _Christmas Canceled at the NHS_ _, or when the second prince was born._  It's so fascinating; all such a wonder, and it makes him love Harry for the giant gap in age between them.

Harry laughs quietly, turning to face Eggsy with a warm stare, and it's the closest expression Eggsy has seen on Harry's face that comes to affection... Like before.

"Apologies. I'll do my best to stay in your line of sight from now on. Or, at the very least, I'll announce my presence every few minutes." Harry says, then glances down at the bidynator Kingsman issue watch around his wrist. "Oh, Eggsy? I'm in the study."

Eggsy rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back against his shoulders, baring his throat and giving the ceiling the brunth of his irritated glare. "Fanks much. Maybe I'll put a bell on ya." But he can't help laughing when he snaps his head back up and sees Harry grinning at him.

It matches the grin Eggsy had first seen on Harry's face, that day he trotted out of the police station. It makes the medal hanging around his neck feel like white-hot iron, the memory of calling that number, saying those words... Meeting Harry.

Before his thoughts can delve any deeper, Harry's expression softens, turns into something a little more repressed... A little sad.

"Thank you, Eggsy."

"For wot?" Eggsy scoffs, expecting Harry to say something sarcastic about the bell now, but there's no real venom to it. He can barely even bring himself to make his expression look sarcastic and indifferent with the way Harry's gaze has shifted, how he's looking through him, but he's _seeing_ _him._

"For caring so much. For being such a sentimental, soft-hearted lad. I don't mean that disrespectfully, either, I can see you misunderstanding." Harry replies, lifting a hand to shush Eggsy when he makes a move to protest. His teeth click together, as he realizes he'd gotten far enough as opening his mouth to unleash a retort. "There aren't many people who would have moved themselves in here and left everything..." Harry trails off, running his hand over the smooth surface of his polished office desk. His gaze is raking over the walls, the deep orange paint framing dozens of articles that cover the story of his life without telling it. "...As is."

Eggsy feels the blush climb up his throat before he can stop it, so he drops his head forward to cover his neck with his jawline. "No, Nothin' to it."

Harry shakes his head, squaring his jaw. "No, Eggsy, I mean it. Truly, thank you. Merlin told me--"

" _Don'_ _really feel much like talkin bout Merlin."_ Eggsy grumbles.

Harry sighs. "Eggsy, you can't be upset with him forever. He's incredibly sorry, but he was simply following orders."

"Orders you gave 'im. So I guess the anger is misplaced, yah?" Eggsy quirks a brow, narrowing his eyes.

_"Merlin told me how insistent you were about moving in here when you were promoted. He said you... Well, I don't feel the need to go into detail, but he told me a great many heartfelt things."_

Eggsy grinds his teeth. That was back when he and Merlin were friends; when he trusted him. He remembers the conversation like a strip of neon lights in his head.

_"Eggsy, really, we can get you your own flat--"_

_"No, Merlin! I want_ _Harry's_ _house. I can'... I can' lose all of him. Have you been in his house? All of his beautiful things, all those memories? Wot, you gonna send in some cleanin' crew to toss Mr. Pickles in a box on the curb?"_

_"Eggsy, honestly, it's a stuffed dog--"_

"It's Harry's.  _It's his_ _life._ _I can' just... Please. I want to take care of it for him."_

_"He... He's not coming back, lad."_

_"Don' you fink I know that?"_

_"...You're a good boy, Eggsy."_

"Man,  _fanks. A_ _Kings_ _man."_

_"Oh, lord. Run along now, before I put the paperwork through the shredder."_

"Yah, so?" Eggsy feigns disinterest. "'S all true, I guess. Whatever he said. Don' expect me to say it twice, though."

Harry smiles lightly. "Wouldn't dream of it. I do imagine it took you a bit of time getting used to staying here."

"Not really. Felt comfortable; like you wos here."  _T_ hat, he shouldn't have said, but he covers his discomfort at his honesty quickly. "Though, Mr. Pickles in the lou? That took some gettin' used to. You wos right. Hard to take a piss with him lookin' right at ya."

A hand scratching at the back of his neck slightly distracts Eggsy from Harry's smile...  _Slightly_ _. "_ Yes, well... You really left everything. Right where it was. I swear, the house hasn't changed an inch, aside from the lack of tea."

Eggsy snorts. "Well, didn' wanna offend your ghost, in case you came to check up on the place. I can just imagine, goin' for one o' those ugly Broque paintin's on da wall." At that, he stands erect, holding up a finger as if he's scolding JB. Then he deepens his voice, lays his posh accent on.

Thick. "Eggsy, you leave that right where it is. That painting is older than you. Have you no class? But while you're at it, dust the ugly horse heads. They're from the reign of the first Elizabeth."

They both laugh at that, Eggsy allowing himself to watch the way Harry drops his head forward, his shoulders losing all tension.

"I would not call my  _Selene's Stallion_ _ugly,_ Eggsy; nor the  _Florentine._ Those stallions are quite priceless, and far older than the first Elizabeth, thank you." Harry retorts, wagging his finger at Eggsy the same way Eggsy had just done mocking him. "They're not ugly."

"But then you'd be a liar."

"They are  _not_ _ugly."_

"Sure, Harry. You comfortable enuff to take a polygraph on that?"

Harry groans, shaking his head as his smile widens. "Well... If the needle skips a bit, I cannot be blamed completely. Not all art is beauty." He admits.

"They're lovely horses, yes, but I really wouldn't mind if you had thrown them out."

Eggsy laughs quietly at that, ducking his head so he can watch Harry through the fringe of his lashes.

Harry is art, Eggsy thinks. From the way he fights to the way he speaks... His breath is art. His stillness is art, and when he's in motion, it's poetry, like flight. He's so beautiful... So damn perfect and regal, like a lion. The way his eye glitters, focuses as if it can count the dust motes, can see through Eggsy's skin to his beating heart. Everything he does is calculated, like a predator that  _knows_ _they have all the time in the world._

His fingers dance over a brass paperweight carved into the shape of a lily sprouting from an opened book, and Harry smiles a little brighter, his shoulders pulling back and his chest flexing as if he's suddenly awash with pride.

That's when Eggsy realizes, Harry isn't exactly like art. He's more like something living; something dangerous--something that can't be framed, because to frame it would mean containing it between panels of stained wood and gold filigree. Harry is like the  _sun_ _;_ Eggsy feels like if he stares at him too long he may be blinded. Art can't do that.

Losing his eyesight, however, wouldn't be such a bad thing if it meant the last thing he saw was Harry Hart. He just wishes that, if Harry were to be the last thing he ever saw, that it would be under beautiful circumstances.

Not the same  _bang_ as his nightmares; Eggsy's so tired of  _bang_.

Perhaps Harry sitting at his desk with a chardonnay or scotch, reading a heavy, leather-bound novel, his shirt collar unbuttoned. Maybe with his hair mussed and tangled, blood on his mouth and a pistol in his hand, grinning at Eggsy as they cheat death together. Better yet, Eggsy could go blind  _happily_ _if Harry gave him another kiss; one last kiss._

If he could have the memory of Harry pinning him against a wall, fingers knotted in his hair, panting against his mouth like a winded animal, the taste of Harry thick on his tongue... If he could see Harry looking down at him, unchained, unyielding, thumb skimming across Eggsy's jaw while he stares into Eggsy's eyes like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Like he's the only thing Harry wants; to possess, to consume, to destroy...

Right before the light got too bright, right before the world went black...

That's what Eggsy would want to see, and it makes him want to bust the thick glass bottle of Black Bull in Harry's tall liquor cabinet over Harry's head, because  _fuck that_ _._

It's not fair, it's not  _fair_ _._

Harry catches him looking, a small smile touching his lips. The gears of the world grind together violently at that, at how Harry can play everything off so well while Eggsy's holding himself together with duct tape and staples and teeth and bone, still feeling the ghost of Harry's death like an icy hand against the back of his neck. "Something wrong, Eggsy?"

_Fuckin' arsehole._

Eggsy grins, but it doesn't quite reach his blue eyes. "Everythin."

Harry doesn't get a chance to respond to that before the front door is groaning as it opens, the floor creaking under another's weight.  
Eggsy's eyes go wide, and his heart does a cartwheel.

"Eggsy? Eggsy, love, I'm back! Market was a bit busy, so I cut the trip short. Brought you those lollies you love so much!" Michelle calls, and Harry quirks a brow at Eggsy's blush.

"One sec, mum!" He exclaims, turning to run down the hall. Then he stops, turns around, and throws himself against the doorway. "You've gotta stay up here, and stay quiet!"

Harry's brows shoot up at that, and his mouth falls flat. "And why would I do that?"

"Cause I asked you to?"

"..."

"Shit, Harry! It's still my house!"

"Am I expected to stay in some dodgy motel until you're ready to move out?"

"No; thas barkin' mad." Eggsy blurts out. "You can stay here, wif me!"

Harry's expression falls even flatter, somehow--god, the man is the pinnacle of indifference, like some iconic cat--and he crosses his arms over his chest. "I want my bedroom back, then."

" _Hrrrrugh!_ _"_ Eggsy groans.

"That's not very gentlemanly, Eggsy." Harry chides, but a smirk tugs up the edge of his mouth.

"Look, my mum can't know you're alive yet! I need time to-- _I_ don't know, come up with a clever lie?" Eggsy whines, throwing his hands out as if displaying the idea he has presented.

Harry rolls his eye at that, and Christ, how can a man have such undiluted sass packed into a single eye roll?? "Eggsy, just tell her the truth."

"Christ!" Eggsy balks, like Harry's shooting profanity at him.

"Truth 'bout wot, honey?" Michelle's voice asks from the hall, and even Harry's eye goes wide at the expression of horror on Eggsy's sheet-white face.

Eggsy has gone stock still, his mouth gaping and his hand still extended, frozen in th middle of their conversation. Then Harry jerks his chin up, towards the figure behind him, and Eggsy snaps to attention and whips around to look at his mother.

"Mum..." He breaths, and Harry finds something curious about the way he says it to her... As if it's a secret.

Reading his face, Michelle's goes stony and cold, and she steps down the hall and grabs him by the shoulder, pushing him lightly but firmly against the door to see Harry standing there beside his desk.

Her expression cracks, a flare of rage lighting up her pale eyes and setting her mouth into a scowl. " _You._ _"_ It's just one word, but she floods it with enough venom that Eggsy flinches, and even Harry has to blink once or twice against the sting of it.

"Michelle. You're looking very well." Harry offers, and yeah, she really is.

Without the bruises or the runny mascara or the tangled golden mane, Michelle is quite lovely. She looks so much like Eggsy that Harry has to take a glance between them, cataloging features. He's sure that his comment is received by Eggsy as well as his mother, because something like startled pride fills the young Unwin's eyes. He's probably glad people have taken notice in his mother's improved state.

But Michelle's having none of his flattery.

"Piss off, Hart. Eggsy, do you know--do you  _know_ _who this is?"_ She demands, taking his wrist and squeezing it tightly.

"Mum, please."

" _Eggsy._ _"_

"Mum, thas... Thas Harry.  _That's_ _the one I..."_ Eggsy breaths, then he reaches out and takes hold of the hand that's holding his wrist. "I can explain."

"You mean..." She looks between the two of them, and Harry is still standing there, so suave and composed, but in his head, there's a tiny storm going on, flooded with questions. " _Him?_ _That's what you meant when you said Harry Hart?"_

"I said I can explain..." Eggsy says again, softer, and he's staring down at his feet, heart slowed down to a close stop.

"You said he was dead."

Unable to really answer, Eggsy just nods.

"You said it was a  _different_ _Harry Hart."_

"I said a lot of things..."

Michelle tuts, pulls her hand free from Eggsy's grip, and looks up at him like she's both horrified and wants to crush him in her arms, to keep him safe. "...Alright. Alright, love, but... Not here."

"I can come over."

"No, no. Look at my boy; already in his jammies." Michelle laughs, and she reaches up to cup his cheeks. She rises onto her toes to kiss the butterfly bandaids, then hugs him tightly to her chest. "You come over tomorrow morning. We can talk then." Then she lowers her voice. "But, baby, I don't want you stayin' in this house wif him."

"I'll be alright for a few nights. I, uh... I'm moving at the end of the week."

"You wasn't gonna tell me?" She balks, leaning back to knock her hand against the side of his head. "You brat."

"I meant to, but then you showed up wif Daisy, and the whole speech went right out my ear. Uh, the second in command is gonna relocate me. Not far from here, actually." Eggsy explains, then he looks over at Harry, for the first time since his mother showed up, and the honest puzzle that Harry's face has become gives Eggsy pause. He licks his lips, Harry's good eye following the action, then looks back at his mother. "I'll be fine, mum. I can explain."

"I know, love."

As soon as she says it, Daisy lets out a tiny cry from the guest room downstairs, and they both start at that.

Eggsy's a little surprised to see Harry take a hard step forward before he stops in his tracks, as if he were about to go see to Daisy himself.

"Tha'll be the little miss wantin' her dinner. Thanks for gettin' her to sleep." Michelle says.

"Stay." Eggsy invites, moving to follow her when she presses a hand to his chest.

"No, we'll go, love. You get some sleep. Daisy and I will see you bright and early tomorrow, yah?"

"Yah, of course. Mum, I..." He looks over at Harry, then leans closer to her and lowers his voice down to a whisper. "It wasn't a lie. None of it."

"Yes, love, you said so; 'I can explain'." She reaches up and pinches his good cheek. "Now, you'd best be a gentleman and escort your mother out." With that, she gives Harry a sour glare, her mouth squaring and her shoulders tugging back.

"Michelle, if I may--"

"You may not." She barks.

"Mum." Eggsy warns. "Don'." He looks between his mother and Harry again, and he finds his heart barbing up again, like it's preparing to climb up his throat to suffocate him before it escapes.

Michelle sighs heavily, and Daisy lets out another loud cry. "Come along, Eggsy. Walk me out." With that, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and struts down the hall and down the stairs.

Eggsy turns and gives Harry a pointed glare. "That went shit."

"It could have been worse. And, honestly, were you going to hide me from your mother forever?" Harry asks easily enough, and when he looks up at Eggsy's face, he thinks that may have actually been the boy's plan.

Eggsy tugs his fingers through his hair with a scoff. "Could've at least given me the chance to explain to her... I might not have remembered you, but she did. Does. Not too happy with you, still. And she knows more than you fink."

"More like what, exactly?"

"..."

"What does she know about your work?" He means Kingsman.

"Nothin'. It ain't like that... I jus told her some things. Private things." Eggsy says firmly, and his sudden defiance sparks something up in Harry's chest.

"Eggsy?" Harry's voice is stronger, lower, and Eggsy flinches back from it.

"Eggsy! Come say goodbye to your ladies!" His mother calls, and it's his ticket out of the room. Before Harry can protest, Eggsy turns and leaves, taking his sweet, sweet time bidding his mother and Daisy goodbye.

As they leave, the sun is just starting to go down, and Eggsy wonders if he can get away with going to sleep this early, if only to avoid Harry some more. Not to mention he wants to sleep as long as possible before tomorrow morning, because his mother is going to ask a lot of questions, and have a lot of opinions.

When he goes back into the flat, he stops to make another pot of tea in the kitchen. Tugging open one of the cabinet doors, he observes the tea stock. Harry's right, of course. Eggsy has let the tea slip; tins and boxes mostly empty, several naked spaces on the shelf where he's emptied whole containers and hasn't replaced them yet. It's not entirely his fault that the most he's done with his wealth as a Kingsman is buy more fitted suits and other such nonsense. He usually just tosses his wealth at things for his mother and Daisy, and the occasional gift for Roxy from whatever mission he's on.

Still, Harry has a point. Eggsy should pay attention to the simpler things in life--like tea stock.

Once the kettle is set, he goes upstairs--and finds the door to the study shut.

JB has followed him, and he goes over to the door and sits in front of it, as if he's waiting for his master to return.

"'M right here, you sod." Eggsy says quietly, holding his arms out.

JB gives him a loud, wet snort.

The blue-eyed boy scowls. "Traitor. Wanker." He grumbles, before he heads to the master and packs up his things.

He tosses all of his underwear and socks into his rucksack, then takes his suits from the rack and hands then over his arm, keeping it extended so they don't drag. After they're safe in the guest room closet, he returns for his 'peasant clothes', as Roxy so delicately puts it when she sees him dressed down. The thought is enough to make him smile, and Eggsy paws through his phone, down to her name, before he realizes he doesn't want to talk... He really doesn't.

When he pulls the tea from the kettle, JB stalks into the kitchen to wait beside him. "Oh, so you come along when you fink there's somefin' in it for you, right?" He asks.

The pug doesn't answer, simply stares up at him with that same pensive, completely trusting stare that he had worn the day Arthur--old, dead, traitor Arthur--told Eggsy to put a bullet between those chocolate eyes.

"Here." Eggsy smiles, and he stuffs a biscuit into JB's waiting mouth. "Thas my boy."

He pours himself a cup of tea--in a sturdy, dark gray coffee mug, because the porcelain is still too intense for him--and heads to the guest room.

It's strange, being in a room that's not Harry's. The walls in here are a burnt cinnamon framed by a delightfully subtle yellow, like melted butter, and the bedspread is a thousand thread count comforter in speckled bronze Egyptian cotton. It smells like sage and apples, and Eggsy hates it.

It's not his room--not  _Harry's_ _room--_ but he'll be in a new house in a week, at least a few street blocks from Harry Hart's bedroom... He has to handle this.

Sure, he's had four months to cope with losing Harry, but now that he has him back, moving out and away from what he's come to know as his comfort zone--his safe haven--shouldn't be too hard, now should it?

"Here boy." Eggsy sighs, and he climbs into bed and watches JB curl up by his feet.

It's still too early to sleep, but Eggsy's fucking  _drained_ _,_ the events of the day wearing on his thin nerves, and sleep is the only way to escape reality.

It doesn't take long, lying in the fleeting sunlight, for Eggsy to feel heavy and fuzzy... Doesn't take long before the black weight of sleep captures him and drags him down.

But he had forgotten--in sleep, he was trapped in a different reality.

**

_The gun is in his hand... It's heavy, a familiar weight, but the situation in which he holds it is new._

_It, too, is familiar somehow, however. The particular pattern in the clouds, the hot, dry air filling his lungs._

_He can hear voices, but his mind isn't clear enough to hear words. There's a scent on the breeze--thick and hot; metallic, like ages of rust. He picks up the scent beneath it; rich, spicy musk... It wrecks his brain, but he's still in a daze._

_One of the voices is particularly familiar; he knows he hears it each night, but doesn't remember how. He turns the gun over in his hand, staring down at it. He can see its shape like a focal lens, catching every bolt and nut, the smooth face of the barrel, the freckles on the butt._

_Someone calls his name, and panic sinks in._

_He jerks his head up, and he can see a figure standing between him and a tall, angular, white building. It glows white like polished quartz in the sun, and the figure before him is a stark black contrast._

Pull the trigger.

_His instincts riot, and his hand is shaking, the sound of glass breaking and long, angry sobs flooding his head._

_He can see himself knocking several vases of flowers off of an end table before hurling himself at the wall. The memory is blurry, but he knows the sobs are ripping from his own chest, in a time not too long ago. He sinks to the floor, still crying with agonizing force, though tears can't fall from his eyes, and his screams have gone dry with the weight of trying to fight down his pain. His fingers pick at the shards on the floor until they turn bloody, and he knocks his head against the wall, curled on the floor like some frightened child._

_Again, his name is called, and it feels more frantic this time--it also sounds louder._

Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger.

_This isn't how the story goes, he tells himself._

_He looks down at the gun again, and a hand claps his shoulder. It startles him, and he watches as he slowly lifts the gun, pointing it at the dark figure between himself and the gleaming white beacon._

_He hears himself scream, can see himself gripping white knuckled to a desk as he watches a computer screen play a memory that feels distant and fuzzy now._

_His hand shakes, and he feels rage boil in his gut at the thought of putting this faceless man in his sights._

_Someone's calling his name... Calling, calling._

_"This ain't that kinda movie." Valentine laughs, squeezing his shoulder, and Eggsy's finger twitches._

_The vision clears._

_"Eggsy." Dream Harry says softly, and he's not even afraid._

Eggsy!

_Eggsy shakes his head violently, and he squeezes his eyes shut before his finger wrenches back. But the scene shifts right before the bullet lodges itself in Harry's glasses._

_Eggsy is in HQ, a cold wall against his back, a warm body against his front. His mouth is hot and damp and sore; it's the only way he knows he's been kissing Harry for so long._

_He tries to tell himself it's a dream, because this isn't real. The way his cheek is miraculously healed, how his wrist doesn't scream in protest as he cards his fingers through Harry's hair, curving his arm against the back of Harry's neck._

_It's a dream, how Harry's looking at him, so beautiful, so loving--so whole. He doesn't wear his eyepatch, because his face isn't damaged by nightmares. Instead, his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and behind them, two perfectly whiskey-colored eyes stare down at Eggsy; burn holes through him._

_Harry's lips press to his again, so softly, like a prayer._

_"Harry..." He sighs, wishing he could drown in this moment, wanting Harry's hands and mouth and warmth on him forever... And then he hears the gun cock._

_His eyes fly open, and Harry's a wreck. His face is covered in blood, his eye shut against the fragments of glass that have driven through it. There's blood on his mouth, his hair disheveled, and Eggsy's heart leaps into his throat as the nose of Harry's gun presses to the underside of his jaw, cold as ice on his throat_ _._

_"HARRY!"_

_Bang..._

"Eggsy, wake up!" Harry shouts, and those blue eyes snap open and his hand flies under his pillow for his gun.

He cocks it, holding it up with shaking arms, the barrel trembling in the air as he aims it at Harry perched on the side of his bed.

Harry doesn't even flinch, but his eye is wide, pupil blown against the shadows of the room. The bedside table lamp has been flipped on, and outside, the sky is only just beginning to pale.

Eggsy pants, the nose of his gun pressed snugly against the tender space between Harry's collar bones. His hair is falling into his face, and Harry's hand is hot and heavy like lead against his hip. The other is in the air, as if he drew it back when Eggsy sprang up in defense mode.

"...It's alright, Eggsy. Wake up; it's alright."

The room around him is slightly foreign, but he can distinguish it as Harry's guest room. Daisy's crib sits in the corner next to a glass cabinet housing brass plates. The gargoyle on the figurine shelf stares at him as if he's lost his mind. The walls are cinnamon and butter, the carpet rich champagne, the blankets tangled about his waist in bronze, not hunter's green and ocean blue.

And then there's Harry...

" _Harry._ _" Eggsy breaths his name like a prayer--or a curse. Because he knows he's awake; finds a guilty sense of comfort in Harry's ruined appearance._

_His hair is a bit messy, as if he's just been lying down and suddenly sat up, strands fallen out of perfect order by the motion. His eyepatch is covering his left eye, and he's wearing a deep green cardigan and pale flannel trousers... He'd been sleeping._

_Harry._

Eggsy closes his mouth and draws in a breath through his nose. When he lets it out, he uncocks the gun, but doesn't move it from where it's pointed at Harry's broad chest.

Without a word, Harry reaches up with his free hand, wrapping deft fingers around the barrel. With the other, he clasps one of Eggsy's wrists, and the touch is so gentle and warm, it does wonders to Eggsy's erratic heart beat.

Once Harry has removed the gun from its dangerous owner's hands, he sets it on the bedside table and scoots forward a tiny bit. His hand rests on Eggsy's hip once again. "Tell me."

Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut and lifts his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms against them until he sees stars, until the feel of Harry's mouth on his is yesterday's news, and the bruises in his flesh are from an enemy not so close to the heart.

"...Jus' a nightmare. Get those a lot. Nothin' in particular." He lies, dropping his hands into his lap.

JB is on the other side of the bed, sitting on the floor and looking up at Eggsy expectantly, like he's waiting for permission to climb back into the sheets with him. The worry on the pug's face would be comical, if Eggsy felt less guilty for always scaring his pup awake.

Harry frowns, but it's not directed at Eggsy, per se. "You called for me." He says softly, and Eggsy's heart skips a few beats while he tries to compose himself.

"Wot?" He breaths, not meeting Harry's gaze. He just can't--not right now. He's had hundreds of nightmares since Harry died, and he can recall them all with astounding clarity.

But this? This was new material. Totally and completely foreign, and Eggsy had never woken from a nightmare to company before--aside from the occasional masturbation joke from Merlin, who, after the first offense, checked up on Eggsy in the morning much more frequently. He was used to startling awake alone, to dealing with his agony alone, to catching his breath and swallowing his tears alone...

And now Harry's here, telling him this.

"You called for me. You said my name." Then Harry's frown deepens. "Screamed it, quite loudly, actually."

Eggsy brings his knees up to his chest and drops his head on them, groaning loudly while his throat flares hot with embarrassment. "Christ, you serious?"

"Eggsy, does this happen often?"

"Wot happen often?"

"The night terrors. Calling for me--is this an every evening occurance?" Harry demands, and his fingers dig a little tighter into Eggsy's hip bone. The pressure anchors Eggsy, clouds his head and stuffs his mouth with cotton as he draws in long, steadying breaths. After all, the way Harry is leaning over him, holding his opposite hip, he's a bit caged in. It feels... Oddly safe.

He really wants to break down and cry, but he knows the tears won't come.

He hasn't shed a tear for Harry Hart since the day he watched him get shot, aside from the drunken break down with Roxy--and that was mostly him crying off the beer in his system. Every panic attack, every nightmare, every moment of weakness is just dry heaving and screaming until his throat has gone dry... And he hardly has episodes that bad anymore.

Eggsy doesn't want Harry to see him like this. He doesn't want to look weak in front of the man that inspired him to be so strong; to be a Kingsman. Surely, there's something in the rulebooks stating Kingsmen do not cry.

Instead of letting himself fall into a feeble state of tears, Eggsy sniffles and lifts his head, composing himself by biting a tiny pinch of flesh between his teeth until his lip bleeds. It always goes completely unnoticed by others around him, and the splash of copper on his tongue grounds him just as soundly as Harry's firm touch.

He shrugs. "Maybe." He goes for nonchalant; aloof, bravado.

Harry's not having his shit. "Eggsy." He scolds, and reaches up to pinch Eggsy's jaw between his thumb and index finger. When he applies pressure, Eggsy's lips part, and the stain of crimson on his lip from the tiny gash is visible in the warm, dim light.

"I said maybe." Eggsy challenges, still not willing to give in.

Harry is  _really_ not having his shit.

His gaze sharpens, a muscle ticking in the strong line of his jaw, and he presses his hand against Eggsy's chest and shoves the smaller male back until his shoulders meet the headboard and their breaths are mingling.

Harry's so close and so warm, so fucking alive, and Eggsy's eyelids shut like weighted curtains at the way he has become caged in by this gorgeous animal.

"Tell me." Harry says again, much softer this time, and Eggsy swallows around the lump in his throat. There's no room for arguing now.

"...You. Always you." Eggsy breaths. "I don' know if I've ever cried in my sleep before. From what Merlin's told me, my heart rate gets jacked, and then I always wake up. But he's nevva mentioned screaming." He explains, and when he opens his eyes, Harry is still there, still so deafeningly close. He gulps again. "It's nevva been night terrors. Just nightmares. And they're all the same thing."

"Eggsy--"Harry says quietly.

"Maybe I shouldn've hacked your computer then. Maybe I shouldn've watched anythin' that happened that day." His voice is quivering, but he smiles up at Harry, because Harry's  _here_ _,_ touching him, breathing into him, looking patient and open as the ocean, and it's exactly what Eggsy needs. "Bet I'd sleep better at night if I didn'.t"

"Might I say now that I am incredibly sorry you had to see that." Harry says quietly, his small frown deepening.

Eggsy's smile slips, and he closes his eyes, letting his head drop forward. Their foreheads touch, and Harry doesn't pull back. "...Me, too. Can' t seem to get rid ov it now. I..."

"Go on." Harry says gently, but he doesn't force Eggsy to let it out.

Eggsy groans and digs his head against Harry's forehead harder, relishing in the way Harry pushes back with soft, mutual pressure. "Can' t sleep wifout seein' you hit the ground." He bites his lip before he can say anything else.

Before the words can fall from his lips;

 _Or me_.

Harry nods, and the hand on Eggsy's chest slides up to cup the back of the younger boy's neck, the hand on his rib fitting between the spaces of Eggsy's ribs. It comes quite close to a hug, and before Eggsy realizes it, his head is pressed to the space between Harry's shoulder and neck, and his hands are fisted in the smooth material of Harry's dark cardigan. If he thought he was caged in before, now, he's completely surrounded. And he wants to drown in Harry...

"I can't either." Harry says lightly, and Eggsy starts at the confession. "To be honest, it's become rather boring for me. What disturbs me most about it is that it's not the most painful experience I've ever lived through."

Eggsy snorts. "Yah, can't forget the great Harry Hart has had worse than a bullet to the skull." He teases.

At that, Harry brushes his fingers through the fine hairs at the base of Eggsy's neck, and his other arm winds tighter around the younger boy's waist, his hand now touching the ribs on the other side.

"There are worse things than physical detriment, Eggsy Unwin." Harry whispers, and his breath is hot and damp as it fans across the bare expanse of Eggsy's shoulder and throat. He is, after all, only wearing trackies and a tank, having discarded Harry's robe before sleep--it now lies over his pillow like a Harry-scented pillowcase, sweet Christ, hopefully Harry doesn't notice.

The action makes Eggsy's blood heat, and the grip he has on the cardigan tightens. There's a rush of warmth heading south from his chest to his gut, threatening to seep down and fill the rest of his body.

Harry's lips brush that bare spot of flesh, and Eggsy tries to fight the bodily shudder that rocks him to the core. Oh, yeah. He's rock hard.

He wants to test this, wants to see how far he can push things. Maybe get another kiss from Harry--before he blows his brains out across the cinnamon walls.

"...Like wot?" Eggsy breaths, and he tilts his head so that his mouth is resting against Harry's neck.

It makes Harry tense, and his grip on Eggsy tightens, like he's afraid someone is going to come snatch him away. It shoots another sick thrill through Eggsy, something like adrenaline, and he wants to taste the salt of Harry's sweat, feel the heat of his throbbing pulse against his tongue.

The large hand on his head crushes him just a bit closer, the arm banded like iron across his back tightening, forcing Eggsy's back to arch so that his chest is pressed flush against Harry's.

 _That_  makes him gasp, and it sounds a little too close to a moan for Eggsy's comfort. His eyes shoot wide open, and his lips skim across Harry's pulse point before his head falls back...  _It's raging._

"Like keeping your mother waiting." Harry says, voice flat. Then the moment is over, and Eggsy finds himself lying flopped across his bed, Harry already up, having shut the bedside lamp off, and heading for the door.

Eggsy gawks at him like he's strutting around naked covered in jelly, and when Harry rounds the corner, he tosses over his shoulder, "You should get some tea while you're out visiting her. I'll write you a list."

The sun cuts through the room, dawn bright and violent beyond the glass, and a beam shines right in Eggsy's face. On most days, it would wake him warmly; give him hope. Now, it's incredibly fucking annoying. Eggsy snarls through his teeth, and the anger that is now pummeling through him makes his erect, neglected cock even harder. "Fuck this, JB." He grumbles, climbing out of bed with mild difficulty, considering the state between his legs.

The pug huffs at him, then hops onto the bed, does a few circles, and moves to lie down on Eggsy's pillow. "Oi! No!" The blue-eyed boy snaps, and he snatches Harry's robe out from under the curly-tailed pig before he can fall on his tummy. It makes JB bark, and he rolls down the length of the bed and settles on his back in the middle, like an off-balance spinning top. He looks up at Eggsy incredulously, but he's not annoyed. "You'll mess wif the smell." He scolds, and before he can stop himself, brings the robe up to his face and buries his nose against it. Pure Harry; spicy and clean and--fuck--it makes his cock leak.

He moans low in his throat.

"Oh, and Eggsy?" Harry says, and he's suddenly in the doorway with a tumbler of scotch in his hand.

Eggsy jumps so hard his back cracks, and JB barks at him. Thank god Harry's old robe is draped across his front, covering his ridiculous erection.

 _"_ _WOT?!_ " He snaps indignantly, and Harry glances him over from head to toe before lifting his scotch to his lips.

"We're nearly out of eggs. May as well get some of those, too. I'll leave the list by the coat rack." Harry says lightly, then he takes a sip of his dark drink before he pivots on his foot and strolls away again.

Eggsy groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

He felt like Harry's errand boy--or worse, his wife.

Still, he couldn't deny Harry had a point. He gathered up his wits and a pair of briefs and managed to get to the bathroom down the hall without seeing Harry, turning on the taps to as close to scalding the human body could handle.

What he really needed was a cold shower, to quell the fire stoking itself in his belly...

But it had been a long time since Eggsy had jerked off.

Now, that wasn't the thought he'd had when he set off to take a shower. Eggsy was going to be a good boy; he was going to let his hard on wave the white flag of surrender, because if he hadn't jacked off in a month or so, he wasn't going to start again with Harry Hart down the hall.

He snaps off the buckles to his wrist splint and sets it on the counter, flexing his hand experimentally. The guy that had grabbed him by the wrist and twisted was about twice Eggsy's size, but a bullet through the underside of his jaw and a vengeful knife-toed kick to the groin had laid him flat. Didn't mean much, since Eggsy's wrist had already nearly been snapped. Merlin would have had a fit if he knew Eggsy was fucking around with his hand so soon after injuring it, but they weren't friends right at that moment.

Despite the desire to ruffle Merlin's feathers, Eggsy's hand really does still hurt quite a bit. He manages to pluck the butterfly bandaids from his cheek and takes a good look at himself in the mirror before he climbs into the hot spray.

His muscles ease out of their tension slowly, and by the time he has washed his hair and rinsed himself off, his cock still hasn't flagged.

And Eggsy has a very lovely cock; longer than average, and thick. The head is flushed from the pressure, and it's sticking up at him in invitation. A tiny part of his brain flicks to Harry--would he like it? What does Harry's look like? How would it feel, taste? Would Harry want his cock?

It gives an enthusiastic twitch at that.

"Shit...  _Fuck_ _, fuckin' stop!"_ Eggsy whines, because it's starting to hurt and he can't make it go away. He waits a few more minutes in the spray before the reality sinks in. "God, why me?" Eggsy groans, accepting his fate. This is one of those erections a man cannot simply ignore; it must, on the other hand, be embraced.

Quite literally, Eggsy has to use his left hand, because his wrist stings like a bitch when he tries to wrap his fingers around himself.

The remnants of soap and the hot water offer a slick slide, and the first stroke it a little sharp, he's so hard, but the second is like heaven.

Eggsy sighs, and he drops his head forward and lets it rest against the tiles of the shower, somehow still cool despite the decent build-up of steam he's managed to create. He gives himself another experimental stroke, finding that his left hand, inexperienced but gifted as it is, feels like a new hand all-together. A stranger's hand...

_Harry's hand._

That tiny whisper of madness makes Eggsy groan in his throat, and he presses his forearm to the tile above his head to keep himself steady. The thought alone has his knees quaking, and he almost comes just like that. He sucks in a sharp breath, trying to fight down the thoughts now rioting in his head. He has to be quiet, and the thought of falling apart under Harry's control is maddening.

He's panting freely now, rocking his hips into the tight circle of his fist, trying to imagine--without much difficulty--that Harry's behind him, pressing filthy kisses to the blades of his shoulders, the meat between neck and bone. His head knocks to the side, and he wishes Harry's teeth were digging into him as he fucks his hand, wants to know what it feels like to be so free, to fall apart in Harry's arms.

He wouldn't have to worry about falling--Harry would catch him.

He'd feel Harry's naked body pressed against his, the slick of water, like rain, dulling sensations so that it would feel like there was no veil standing between them. All that lithe muscle, the incredible strength hiding beneath layers of virgin wool and fine cashmere, cotton and silk.

A moan escapes his parted lips before he can stop it, and it's breathy and filthy, echoic off the shower tiles. He hopes the sound of the shower drowns him out...

But he also really, really wonders what would happen if Harry heard--fuck, what's wrong with him? It's thrilling, and in the corner of his mind, he can feel Harry's tongue tracing his throat, brushing the shell of his ear as his naked body bears down on Eggsy's, crushing his chest to the cold tiles and forcing his back to arch. He pants, clean water painting his eyes shut, running across his parted lips to wet his tongue.

It's a welcome touch, the water running all over his body. He swallows around a mouthful of it and dips his head down, hair slicked across his forehead as he watches his cock throb in the circle of his fist. With the rocking motions of his hips, the light canting that comes from following his hand, the medallion around his neck is thumping soundlessly and prettily against his bare chest. It feels molten hot, drugging his head with all sorts of taunting images.

He sees Harry leaned up against the wall outside of the police station, looking so effortlessly perfect, so suave and lithe and already dangerous. He thinks of Harry in the Black Prince, kicking ass with a fucking umbrella, of all things. Then he thinks of Harry in his coma, holding his cold, still hand... Feeling his fingers curl around his, even through the veil of sleep. Dozens of other images flash through his head, of training, of comfort, of pain; Eggsy finds that he hasn't blinked, hasn't been able to tear his gaze away from his cock thrusting in and out of the shallow hold of his palm.

He leans forward a bit more, and the pendant around his neck clicks against the shower wall. It sounds about a thousand times louder than it actually is, but it gets Eggsy choking on a moan, and he squeezes the base of his cock to keep from coming undone so soon. He needs an anchor...

When he tangles his fingers into his hair, he imagines it's Harry's hand, and he tugs much harder than intended. A wet gasp rushes from his parted lips, and he gets a dark rush at the thought of Harry being like that. Harry would fuck the way he kisses; the exact opposite of a gentleman. He'd be demanding, possessive, rough.

He'd be an animal.

And Eggsy would love it.

He twists his wrist, palming his leaking head, and he wants so bad to be able to scream; he hurts from breathing so hard. His breath is an effort, drawing in wet gasps and panting out breathless moans. They constrict around his heart, and he thinks, maybe, this is what a heart attack feels like. It's the restriction; the inability to whine and moan and scream the way he truly wants to. It gets caught in his throat, the urge to chant Harry's name as he's fucking his fist harder, because this pleasure of his? It's for Harry.

But it's different now.

It'd be a lie to say this was the first time Eggsy Unwin jerked off to the thought of Harry Hart. Though more often than not, his spank-bank material was under lighter circumstances, with the same bittersweet ending that would leave him feeling dirty, achy, and lonely when it was over. It was a much softer style of Harry; a Harry whose kisses were soft, his hands gentle, and his breath slow. They were pale shades of pleasure brought on by the idea of the debonair gentleman Eggsy had first met, treating him as if he were made of spun glass, touching Eggsy as if he might break under the right pressure of lips on skin...

This, though, is fueled by the reality of Harry Hart. This is inspired by his kiss--a kiss Eggsy knows he can't, can't, can't forget.

This is fueled by the Harry Hart that took out Dean's goons in the Black Prince without a hair falling out of place. The Harry that destroyed an entire church, swept up every life inside, single-handed, his mind a memory, his body a weapon... The Harry that fought tooth and nail to get home, missing eye be damned, to be a Kingsman once again.

Now... Eggsy sees the Harry that roughed him down the hall, pinned him with his body, hands above his head, and ravaged his mouth like no one ever has before--or will ever again, Eggsy's sure of it. He's so, so sure that he knows what he wants now. He wants Harry; more than he's ever wanted anything before, he wants Harry...

His thumb catches on the slit, and he mewls before he can bite his lip, cock twitching violently in his palm.

" _Hnn, fuu-auh! Ha--arry._ _"_ That one word, that name like the fucking sun, is all he needs. He comes apart so beautifully, Eggsy does. His back bows, his mouth falls open, and his muscles tremble as he paints the lovely checkered gray and blue shower tiles with stripes of white-hot ecstacy.

Eggsy's still panting when the water starts to run cold, holding himself against the wall to stay upright, and his hand trembles with the effort it takes to release his softening cock.

Blinking the cooling water out of his eyes, he stares at his release on the shower wall for a good, long while. "Fuck." He mutters, hating himself, before he unlatches the shower head from the wall and turns the spray against the tiles. He rinses the wall for a lot longer than necessary before he's turning the head towards himself, shooting himself in the face with now nearly icy water.

It's like a sick form of punishment. No, Eggsy, bad. Don't masturbate thinking about Harry. It was sick enough when you thought he was dead--the man's old enough to be your father. He doesn't want you.

_Ah!  Eggsy's mind protests the last statement, and he shuts off the water with a smile that comes dangerously close to smug._

_You don't kiss someone like that if you don't want them._

But then, of course, Eggsy chastises himself, wrapping a towel aroung his waist, you don't tell someone you want to forget that you kissed them like that. As for the other points, Eggsy happens to be incredibly turned on by Harry's age. More experience, if one picks up what he's throwing down.

But now that he's spent, Eggsy just feels like a git for jacking himself to a man that wants nothing to do with him in that department. Harry probably does feel like a father figure to Eggsy. That's probably why he told him to forget the kiss.

Ah, the kiss. There it is again. The kiss he can't forget.

_Fuck._

Eggsy towels his hair dry before he tugs his briefs on, then he steps out of the bathroom and--

Collides right into Harry Hart in nothing but his tight black briefs.

Harry's strong, gun-calloused hands fly out, cupping his shoulders and steadying him. "Eggsy! Goodness." Harry says in a startled tone, and Eggsy feels the blush climb up his throat. Those hands... On his bare skin.  _Fuck_ _, he feels like he could come again._

His face is pressed to Harry's chest--he's traded his cardigan and comfortable flannels for a suit jacket and trousers, shit--and he's just about stark naked, still damp and noodly from his shower, with the satisfaction of a good tug still burning in his blood.

He's royally fucked.

"Sorry, Harry. Really, 'm sorry." Eggsy mumbles, and he pushes against Harry's chest, stepping on his socked toes.

"...Ow." Harry says dryly, and he runs his palms down Eggsy's arms, pinning them to the younger boy's sides before he uses that leverage to hoist him bodily off his foot and to the side.

And, fuck him sideways, that's the kind of thing that gets Eggsy worked up like nothing else. Being manhandled, like he isn't a grown man. Being lifted up and set down, like he isn't a Kingsman.

Harry Hart placing him out of the way like it's the easiest thing.

Like he could pick Eggsy up and fuck him up the side of a wall, the only sign of his strength in the tightly drawn coils of his muscles. Like he could press Eggsy down, face first into the pillows, and hold him there effortlessly while he fucked him without fail. It's a bright reminder that Harry is a Kingsman. He's no ordinary gentleman in a sharp suit with a gorgeous face; he's dangerous. He's powerful and deadly; he's a weapon.

Eggsy's blushing like a cherry, and Harry's hands have released him, one lifting from his arm in favor of pinching him by the chin once again. "Be a bit more careful, yes?"

"Yes." Eggsy breaths.

It's startling, how Harry smiles at that, whiskey-gaze softening. "Perhaps look both ways before crossing the halls, hm?" He leans in a bit closer, his cheek brushing Eggsy's as his lips rest before Eggsy's ear. "You're not alone anymore, Eggsy. Remember that."

His voice is like molten silk, and Eggsy's heart pounds up against his ribs at those soft, beautiful words.

Then Harry leans back--Eggsy honestly expected a kiss on the cheek, or something equally foolish--and smiles down at him. "And behave as such. Put some clothes on; we're not nudists."

With that, Harry strolls off, JB following close behind--Christ, what a traitor.

Eggsy wastes no time getting dressed, pulling on a pair of smooth gray trousers and a matching waistcoat over a soft blue button down. It feels a little too dressy, but a full suit is too much, and his mother loves when he looks nice. She especially deserves to have something nice with all the shit he's about to lay on her. But he doesn't button the very top of his dress shirt, and he rolls up the sleeves to show off his watch and the sinew of his forearms--as well as his pathetic splint. Can't get too stuffy on a day off, even for his mum. But he does style his hair with his fine toothed comb, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an experimental wink in the mirror.

Yeah. He's sharp as steel, and he knows it.

The sun has risen a good deal into the sky, lighting the flat with gold and pale blue against the filigree walls and wooden paneling.

Before Eggsy can leave the house, he's stopped in the doorway by his phone going off. It's Merlin's ringtone; a jaunty tune from a classic Disney film--previously thought to be funny and endearing. He doesn't want to answer.

He hits ignore several times, Harry sitting at the dining room table with JB by his feet, picking idly at a breakfast Eggsy things is too lavish for a weekday morning, before Roxy's ringtone goes off--a snippet from a Walk The Moon song which, as Roxy said, was their theme (Eggsy wanted to use something more badass, but he managed to get Roxy to set his own ringtone as the opening theme from 24, as she simply refused to use anything from James Bond or the like).

He snaps his finger across the green button. "Christ, wot? First Merlin blows me up, and then he sends you to do his dirty work? Are you callin' me for him, Rox, cause if you are--"

" _Eggsy, it's about your flat, love._ " Roxy sighs, exasperated. There's not even a pause before she scolds him. " _You know, the world could have been ending, or Merlin could have been dying, and you would have been clicking decline like some rumpled school girl dropped on prom night_." Her voice is a melodious drone of sarcastic irritation.

"Oh, yeah? Well--"Eggsy's about to retort with a snide comment when her statement clicks in. "Wait... Wot about my flat?"

There's a long, heavy sigh on the other end, and Eggsy looks at Harry with a weight of dread plummeting down from his flushed throat to his gut.

" _You need to come in_."

_Fuck._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH! Thank you all for the kind words and patience! So, it looks like for this story to go the way I wanted it to, it's gonna be longer than intended--first three parts, then four, and NOW five. Hopefully five it will stay.
> 
> I've also decided to post updates every Saturday--for my readers' benefit and for my own encouragement.


	3. It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Eggsy," Harry calls suddenly, and he can't take it, he just can't fucking do this anymore
> 
> "Galahad!" Eggsy snaps, whipping his head up to give Harry a dark stare. Tears are making his throat swell up, but he won't let them touch his eyes or stain his voice. He clears his throat and tugs on his jacket, straightening it. "It's Galahad..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm sorry.  
> -xo Mo, [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)

"Wot the fuck you  _mean, burned down?!"_ Eggsy exclaims, slapping his hand on Merlin's desk.

Merlin sighs, pushing his custom Kingsman specs up the bridge of his nose before he looks up at Eggsy indignantly. "The flat I was going to have prepared for you burned down."

Eggsy raises his brows and narrows his eyes, throwing his hands out as if he expects more.

"Christ, Eggsy, do you need details?"

"I'd like 'em, yah!"

Merlin sighs, rubbing his face with his palm. "There was a gas leak, damn it. Apparently, somebody thought it would be a nice idea to have a smoke while they were moving the furniture out. Long story short? It burned down. The version  _you're_ asking for? The chemical reaction when flame meets gas--"

"Shove off, Merlin." Eggsy says, and a snort escapes from his chest, a smile tugging his mouth.

The slate-earth of Merlin's eyes brightens at that, and he offers Eggsy a tiny, terribly restricted grin.

Then Eggsy frowns. "Don't smile at me. 'M still mad at you."

"Says the six-year-old in a twelve-year-old voice." Merlin deadpans.

That makes Eggsy's frown deepen, and his brows furrow tightly as he leans against his Handler's desk. "Why'd you lie to me, Merlin? Bout Harry?"

Harry sighs, his expression solemn as he leans back against his leather upholstered office chair. "I was following orders, Galahad. Nothing more."

"...There  _is_ more though... Isn't there?" Eggsy breaths, crossing his arms over his chest.

With that, Merlin reaches up and removes his glasses, twirling the stem between thumb and forefinger with one hand while he rubs his eyes with the other. "Harry is a very demanding man. Even before Kingsman, he was used to having his way. As Galahad, he was a fearless, positively remarkable knight who never once failed a mission."

That makes them both pause, because the death of Lee Unwin was not a failed mission--merely a personal failure on Harry's hands.

"I have been his friend for a great many years, Eggsy. You're right; this is more than just following orders. Now that he's Arthur, it's hard for him to ask things of me versus ordering them of me." Merlin continues. "I want you to know, I didn't agree with it; being asked of my friend to hide something from a boy I truly care about."

Eggsy shifts on his feet at that, dropping his gaze to a mug on Merlin's desk housing more pens than he probably needs.

"But as my commanding King, and the head of Kingsman, I could not disobey an order given to me by Arthur. Under any circumstances." His voice is grave when he says it, before he slides his glasses back on and sighs. "I'd ask for your forgiveness, if I thought you'd give it to me."

Eggsy sighs heavily, raking his hands through his hair. "'S jus... I mean--how  _long did you know?"_

"..."

"Merlin?" Eggsy growls, and it almost sounds like a command.

Though he can't be sure whether or not guilt or obligation makes Merlin speak, Eggsy gets his answer. "That first morning, when you told me you'd had a bad dream? When I called in to check up on you via the monitors in your alarm clock."

" _Christ."_ Eggsy groans, spinning to face away from the man in front of him.

"That's why I was up so early--that first time I heard your heart rate spike."

"I oughta break that outdated clipboard o' yours right over your shiny head, Merlin."

"That was the day I was alerted to Harry's condition. That week, Lancelot's reconnaissance mission to Pakistan was actually me sending her to retrieve Harry and bring him home..." Merlin's voice is soft and low, gravelly, and his accent is thickened by the weight of his words. "I'm sorry, lad."

"That had to've been before he was even conscious enuff to give you orders. Why'd you keep him from me then?" Eggsy demands, stuffing his hands into the smooth gray of his trousers.

Merlin shrugs. "You care for him too much. That much is obvious, Eggsy--Harry is a great weakness for you. To have him brought back here with such a severe possibility that he wouldn't be staying with us for very long? I decided I would rather not see you broken down in the hospital wing, crying over a man who couldn't hear your tears."

Eggsy shakes his head hard at that. "No; you don't get to say that. Harry's not my weakness--he made me strong.  _Makes me strong."_

Merlin continues as if he hadn't spoken. "But when Harry showed incredible improvement at a rapid rate, I insisted we tell you. Roxy did, as well."

"So  _then came the orders."_

"He did it in your best interest, Eggsy. Harry's feelings for you--"

"No, don't." Eggsy barks. "This street 'm on wif him? It's a one way lane to nowhere. Harry does not give a shit about me."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Now you're being dramatic. He favors you quite highly."

"Dramatic? Wos dramatic wos hidin' him from me like a sick Christmas present. Everyone seems ta think I couldn'tve handled it. I woulda felt bout a thousand times betta knowin' he was here;  _safe. Alive."_

Merlin smacks his had on the desk. "But your affection for him; the missing piece of your life? Harry would have pushed his way to the forefront of your thoughts had we simply mentioned he was alive. Tell me Eggsy, and be honest, if I had told you we were bringing him home, would you have been able to focus on anything-- _anything--_ but his recovery?" Merlin's gaze has hardened, and Eggsy can't fight back. "No. You would have been in danger, in the line of duty. Your mind would not have been on your missions, it would have been on Harry Hart pulling himself back together again."

"You still coulda told me."

"...Just so. I already apologized once, boy. I'll not be saying sorry for following orders, but I will ask for forgiveness for putting you through all this hell." Merlin rubs at the back of his neck, clicking his pen against his 'outdated' clipboard. "I know what Harry means to you, and I understand that you've been in pain. It's one of the reasons I kept a close monitor on your vitals after that first morning." He glances up at Eggsy through his surprisingly spiky fringe of lashes. "I dinnae want you to be waking up alone, lad."

There's a long, incredibly heavy silence between them, fallen like a sheet of snow across the glow of lights in the street.

Then Eggsy sighs, plops into the chair in front of Merlin's desk, and claps his hand over his face. "I forgive you... Damn it, Merlin,  _damn you, I forgive you."_ He huffs out, and the relief at letting go of the grudge he'd been pressing into Merlin for the past twenty-four hours or so was like a god-send.

Merlin grins at him. "Thanks lad."

Eggsy shakes his head. "nothin' to it. Guess I'll just... Stay here?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, till you get me a place ta live."

"...Oh, goodness, Eggsy."

That makes Eggsy pause. "Wot?"

Merlin sighs, dropping his chin down onto his intertwined, bridged fingers. "You'll be staying right where you are... With Harry."

It seemed a great long while passed before Eggsy spoke--before he breathed, before he blinked; before it all seemed to sink in.

"You fuckin' tosser." He says flatly, his expression still one of cold indifference.

"I knew you'd understand." Merlin replies just as snidely.

Eggsy jumps at that, his visage of apathy shattering, the true Eggsy--the one of fire and spark and callous wit--shooting forward. "Thas such shit, Merlin! I can't stay wif him! It's a nightmare to even be around him for more than a minute!"

"I'm sure you'll manage it for a week or two." Merlin says, looking down at his clipboard before he scribbles down a note or two. "This way, you'll always have company. And Harry, being fresh out of my care, will need some looking after."

"You jokin'?"

"He'll need to be reminded to take his medication; possibly told to hold off on reading too much. He'll be having migraines, I'm sure, so some cold water and a comfortable bed will need to be at the ready." Merlin says slowly, then looks up with a more serious expression on his face. "He really  _does need looking after, Eggsy. You both_  do."

It leaves no room for argument; even a playful one.

Eggsy sighs, exasperated, and scrubs a hand down his jaw. His wrist twitches at the action. "Fine, fine. But you owe me somefin nice! I want one o' those fancy thingamajigs. You know, the ones wif the buttons an' the little stick thingy?" Eggsy says, pointing his finger at Merlin. Then he does his best to demonstrate what he means for his favor, pinching his fingers together and then drawing a line in the air.

Merlin's expression goes flat. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"You know, the thingies! The-- _Christ--_ I know you know! They're the ones with the lil trigger on the side; an' they go  _fwim!_ " He offers in a squeaky voice.

"Get out of here, you cheeky little runt. I'll do my best to search for your  _'thingamajig'."_ Merlin waves him off, and when Eggsy leans across the desk to swat Merlin's arm affectionately, his slate eyes go wide and he freezes at the contact.

"Fanks, Merlin. You're the guverna." Eggsy teases, before he turns on his heel. "Even if yous stickin' me to Harry like a nurse maid is shite."

"Thank you, Galahad." Merlin says, and Eggsy can hear the tiny smile on his Handler's face.

He shuts the door as he leaves, finding Roxy still sitting on one of the arm chairs in the long hall that serves as a waiting room for Merlin's office.

She grins up at him, honey eyes gleaming and amber pony-tail in pristine condition. "Not so bad, now, is it?"

"You're in cahoots wif him, ain't you?" Eggsy groans, and when the other knight rises onto her toes and threads her arm into his, he follows her willingly down the hall.

"It's not cahoots. I simply find that when coincidences line up accordingly, things tend to go rather well."

"Or rather shit."

Roxy laughs at that, bumping her head against his shoulder. "So what did your mother say?"

Eggsy nods, chewing the inside of his lip. "She-she-she said she understood. She asked me exactly what kind of tailor shop I was workin' in again, but... She understands. I told her that she was on a strictly need-to-know basis, and that I would nevva let anyfin happen to her or Daisy. I jus said Harry was in an accident out of town, there was no way for us to know he was alright until the doctors picked through his files and called."

His companion nods at that. "Clever boy. That's pretty close to the truth."

"Yah; aside from him bein' shot in the face and me prancin' off to avenge his death in an Eggsy vs. a hundred death trap in the middle of the mountains!" Eggsy shoots, and Roxy tips her head back and laughs at that, the light catching in her hair, making it shine.

"You don't have to be so dramatic."

"'S the truth! I mean, she seemed pretty upset about Harry bein' my boss. Told me not to be followin' in my da's footsteps..." Eggsy rakes his fingers through his hair. "Then I sat there and defended Harry for a bit, because no matter how mad I am, he didn' deserve the shitstorm my mum was lettin' out."

"Good boy; that was very sweet of you."

"Yah, right... Wait till I tell her Imma be stayin' wif him longer than I thought." He scrubs a hand down his face at that--the left, because the right is still being a bitch, and is in Roxy's hold--and sighs. "I think she'd be nicer if she knew more. Not everythin... Just more. She already has enuff bits and pieces to understand. But... ya know?"

A nod is his reply.

"Like... Maybe if she knew more, she'd be nicer to Harry. Or she'd be more proud ov me."

"Oh, Eggsy, your mother is incredibly proud of you. Even before Kingsman, it's clear her adoration for you was always very strong." Roxy offers.

"Guess you're right. Besides; if she knew too much, she'd probably push me into her basement and lock the door up behind me." They both laugh at that, and Eggsy holds up a matter-of-fact finger. "Which I would escape from with the barest of ease."

"Of course, Galahad."

They meander through HQ for a bit until they get to the shuttle, Roxy tilting her head to the side and giving a glamorous smile to the other knight.

"Wanna go out tonight?" She inquires. "You can get shitfaced and I can carry you home."

He titters, shoving her lightly against the arch in front of the shuttle. "Funny, Rox. Actually, 've go'a go shoppin'."

"Eggsy Unwin going shopping?" She teases.

"'S for Harry. He was whinin' somefin fierce about how I 'destroyed his tea stock'." He emphasizes with finger quotations. "He made me a list an' everythin." With that, Eggsy pulls out the crumpled sheet of gorgeous stationary with Harry's incredibly pompous script scrawled across it. Honestly, it's not really script; but everything Harry does has an artistic flourish and a certain depth of beauty. "Twelve kinds of tea, a dozen eggs, double ply tissues, a box of stroop waffles, shoe polish, a--"

"Eggsy, Eggsy; I've got it. A simple no would have sufficed. I don't need to hear about how Harry's making you his little house wife." Roxy says with a grin, just as the shuttle doors open.

"You're not funny, Rox. Jus not funny. It's a good thing yous a badass, cause you can't crack a joke." Eggsy deadpans, and the Harry elbows him and laughs as they climb into the shuttle together. "Hope he's not there when I get back. I feel so... Awkward around him."

"Well, he'll probably still be here filling out paperwork, assigning missions. You know; Arthur things." Roxy answers.

"Wait... He wos here?" Eggsy asks, incredulous.

"Yeah. Showed up a little bit before you. You were probably still talking to your mother when he came in."

"...What a sod." Eggsy grumbles, and the doors to the shuttle slide shut as he slumps back against the seat.

If Harry was going to play the avoidance game, Eggsy would, too.

**

Honestly, it's not that hard.

Eggsy goes to the market--and spends an obscene amount of time there--before hitting up the tea shop and a very nice shoe store he found not many months ago. He loves the shoe polish from there, and if Harry doesn't, he can go out and get his own. He goes to a handful of other stores, gathering up everything from Harry's list--does he  _really need artisanal butter? And Finestien's windmill almond cookies?? Where is Eggsy supposed to find those??_

By the time his private car is rolling in front of the house, the sun is just barely shining over the edge of the earth, painting the sky vermilion, amber, and indigo. Harry's car is still not parked in its space, and so Eggsy goes inside toting his many bags without expecting company.

"Harry?" He calls anyways, and JB comes scuffling along, huffing and puffing his merry way. "Hey, there's my good boy. Ya need ta go for a walk?"

He spins in a few circles, curly tail bouncing as he does.

"Alright, let your da put these fings away afore we go." Eggsy makes quick work of putting away the eggs and butter, leaving the tins of tea on the counter for later.

Their walk is long and leisurely, JB sniffing every flower and bush sprouting from someone's fencing, Eggsy counting the stars that slowly start to gleam in the sky when all the red and purple has gone.

He's in no hurry to return, whether or not Harry will be there or not. It's a lovely night out, the air cool but quiet, the streets following suit. It's a night that reminds him of how far he has come, how Kingsman has carried him. He remembers nights like this, running through the streets, ducking down alleys and hiding on dangerously steep window sills, sucking down shaky breaths to stifle his crying. He remembers nights like this, chasing skirts and laughing with his boys, jumping a roof or two, thinking he would find freedom someday...

Pushing open the front door to Harry's flat, he unclips JB's collar and hangs his leash on a coat peg, flicking a switch that turns on a select few lights, to make getting through the house easier and brighter. His little pug goes prancing to the sitting room, climbing onto Harry's terribly floral armchair to curl up and lie down.

Eggsy's stuck in the doorway. The lights paint the house a warm, brilliant golden white. The wallpaper is perfect and the paneling smooth, the wood floors and decorative carpets fine and plush, stitched to perfection.

In the sitting room, where JB is already beginning to snore, the sofas and paintings and beautiful ornate coffee table are lit by a lamp whose glass shade is carved into an ornate flower head. The dining room is cleaned, Harry's dishes washed and sitting on the rack, the window dark, but the flowers in their box preening in the rising moonlight. The brilliant orange of the walls and the offset of appliances discreetly designed to look like more smooth teak cabinets is warm like dawn.

A deep heat settles in Eggsy's gut, and he smiles, toes off his shoes, and ascends the stairs. He runs his hand along the banister with a little more intimacy than necessary, gives the old paintings and framed coins a little more attention than usual.

He thinks about Mr. Pickles in the bathroom, thinks about all the figurines and beautiful, beautiful butterflies cased in glass... The spoons Harry has hanging in a rectangular case beside the light switch in the kitchen.

When he gets to Harry's office, he stands in one spot for a long time, reading all of the articles he can manage, the bold titles catching on his memory for him to ask of Harry later what exactly he was doing on these days.

Eggsy thinks maybe he'll start doing this. Maybe get on his laptop and look up the front page that was printed on V-Day, when he first saved the world. But even then, he wants a few more. Maybe one of the day he met Harry, his first day at Kingsman. The day he and Roxy set the record for parachute opening, the day when it was narrowed down to just the two of them and their undying loyalty...

The day Harry died...

The day he came back.

Eggsy beams, the strange wave of comfort settled in his gut making him sleepy, making him content. He undoes a few more buttons on his blue dress shirt, unbuckles his belt and drops it on the floor of Harry's room.

When he plops down onto the bed,  _that's when it hits him..._

 _This is his freedom. He is_  free.

He is a Kingsman, and that comes with a lot of responsibility, but it has also cut every chain that was ever holding him down. Kingsman gave him his freedom; gave him strength and nobility and opened his eyes to what he was worth and what he could be.

_And it was all thanks to Harry Hart._

It's that thought that makes Eggsy's chest swell and his breath rush from his lungs, and he rolls over onto his stomach and nuzzles into the bed that used to be his.

Harry's bed smells even  _more like him now, since he has slept in it so recently. Eggsy sighs, burying his face into the pillows, twisting his fingers in the sheets. These walls are so familiar now, already the weight of exhaustion is dragging him into the blankets._

His brain protests, telling him he needs to get up and go downstairs to sleep in the guest room because  _this is not his room anymore and Harry could be home any minute._

But his body could care less, and his heart is a warm, fluffy mess behind his ribs.

The bed dips, and JB curls up in his spot near the foot, snorting wetly against Eggsy's ankle. "Fanks, mate." Eggsy teases, and he yawns against the pillow.

What's a nap in another man's bed mean? He's not even that tired! He'll wake up and go downstairs before Harry even gets home. That's the thought that allows Eggsy to give the weight of sleep the chance to finally tug him down, down, down.

Before he crashes, he whispers, "Fanks, Harry..."

If Eggsy woke up covered by the comforter with a cup of still steaming too-sweet tea on the bedside table, Harry would deny that he was responsible with a gun to his head.

**

_Eggsy's sitting in Arthur's office--the old Arthur--and the man is giving him that terrible and horrendously eloquent speech about 'viruses' and 'immune systems' and 'the earth is healing'._

_It's a load of shit, and Eggsy wants to tell him to shove it so far up his arse he'll taste it..._

_But that's not how the story goes._

_That's not the memory._

_In the memory, he's still wound up about watching Harry die. He's still broken and burning up, the knot in his throat barely contained by his clenched teeth._

_The sight of the scar on the side of Arthur's head makes him want to vomit all over the table, even more than the sight of Harry's body crumpling to the ground did._

_Still, he has his fists white-knuckled on the table, his eyes stinging with the tears that he had already shed. He's dehydrated and aching and his heart fucking hurts._

_But he has the presence of mind to switch out the drinks, has the gift of conscious thought to keep a straight face with the most impressive glare he's ever mustered. And it's not hard to leer at Arthur like he's taken the world and crushed it under his heel, because he has taken Eggsy's world._

Harry  _was his world. In his betrayal and deceit, Arthur sent Harry to his death. He sent him right to Valentine, who shot him in the fucking face, who knock Eggsy's star right out of the sky._

_Even if he knows how the story ends, with Arthur's death and Eggsy's revenge half fulfilled, he still leans into the table and narrows his eyes._

_"I'd ravver be wif Harry... Fanks." He adds the second part with a cock of his head and the quirk of his brows._

_"So be it." Arthur breaths, and--_

_He looks to the office door as it swings open._

_Eggsy's spine tingles, and he sits back and jerks his head to the door, feeling the exact moment the train flies off the tracks; the moment the story is rewritten._

_His heart sinks, a black weight of dread flushing through his blood, turning it to ice. Because it can't be. That's not how the story goes. But his hands are clammy and sweat slicks up the back of his neck, and his hairs rise as his skin prickles._

"Harry."  _He gasps, shoving back against his chair to put as much distance between himself and the ghost in the doorway as possible._

Harry's perfect. He's traded out his bloodied suit for another; black pinstripe, bespoke, with a brilliant scarlet tie around his throat... It's not something Harry would normally wear, Eggsy knows. His hair has been combed back to perfection, his glasses perched effortlessly on the bridge of his nose.

_"Eggsy." Dream Harry tuts, shaking his head in disapproval, looking just as disenchanted with Eggsy, just as frustrated and unsatisfied as he had when Eggsy couldn't shoot JB._

Eggsy...

_Eggsy shakes his head, heart rate quickly climbing, his mouth running dry as the pressure of the room shifts. He feels like he's being crushed, like there's a hand on his throat and several miles of water on top of him. "Harry... No."_

_"You said you'd rather be with him." Arthur says lightly. "He's with me."_

_"No." Eggsy snaps._

Eggsy.

_Harry takes a subtle step forward. "Come now, Eggsy." He entreats, and his voice is so beautiful, so familiar, yet these are words Eggsy's never heard him say before. "I thought you were smarter than that."_

_Those morning-blue eyes snap wide open, and Eggsy thinks he can taste blood in his mouth. "No." He says again, a bit louder. "Harry, stop."_

_"Oh, Eggsy."_

Eggsy.

_"Harry?"_

_"I wanted you to be smarter."_

_Harry slips his gun out of the waist of his tailored trousers, lifting it and pointing it at Eggsy's head without hesitation. His whiskey colored gaze is almost black, and it stabs through the tightly twisted coil of Eggsy's heart like a thousand spears of winter._

_The gun cocks._

_"Harry!"_

_Bang._

"Harry!!" Eggsy shouts, snapping up in his bed--

And directly into Harry's chest. Arms are immediately wrapped around his shoulders, a hand twisting fingers through his hair. "Shh, Eggsy. I'm right here. You're awake--you're at home." Harry's voice says softly, and Eggsy finds comfort in knowing he's heard him say that about a dozen times now.

The weight dipping the bed draws Eggsy closer, and he can feel how Harry is perched deeper on the mattress than usual, probably having leaned over to reach the space where Eggsy was trembling. JB's weight is still grounded on his feet, holding a sense of warmth under the blankets.

The windows are a little brighter than usual, but Eggsy knows it's still too incredibly early for Harry to have woken himself up naturally.

He lifts his arms under Harry's, gripping at the fabric of his robe, tugging it down against his shoulder blades. Harry smells like home; the familiar spice and caraway mint, Earl Gray lingering on the breath fanning against Eggsy's bare shoulder.

Oh. Right.

All he's wearing is a pair of loose drawstrings and his medal.

It hardly matters to him anymore. Harry's seen him in a dozen different positions, almost a hundred different ways.

He's panting open mouthed against Harry's neck, having turned his face in to nestle into the shadow Harry's body provides. The panic is still tingling brightly in his chest, still clawing at his throat and running in his blood. Even though he wakes up and immediately registers that the real Harry--living, breathing, beautiful, safe Harry--is holding him, he still has a few minutes before the dream's claws are pulled from his skin.

They've learned this by experience now.

"That was sick." He whimpers breathlessly, and Harry pets his hair.

"Talk to me." Harry says.

Eggsy doesn't reply. Instead, he sniffles, swallowing the ache in his throat, before he presses his forehead to Harry's collar bone, tucking his body more tightly against Harry. "How long you been here?"

"Not very. You didn't start calling for me for quite some time. I was rather impressed."

"But?"

"...But you were crying before. Mostly, you were saying 'no'. I ignored it; hoped it was a battle you could fight yourself." Harry says honestly, because yes, sometimes Eggsy  _can. "Then_  you called my name. Well, you whimpered it twice, and screamed it  _thrice before you woke up."_

Eggsy holds in a groan, and then, he holds his breath all together.

He finds that protesting the truth, trying to play off the fact that he cries for Harry like a scared child for their father, makes him feel a little better. For a moment's time.

Harry tugs on his hair at that, forcing his neck to arch so that his face turns up towards the ceiling, and he has to breathe, Harry's face nestled against his throat. "don't hold it in, Eggsy. It's very ill-favored."

Eggsy snorts, and Harry gives his hair another tug.

"...You were alive. With Arthur. You wos in on the whole thing--gettin' shot by Valentine was fake... You shot me." Eggsy says without shame, and he immediately feels relieved.

Harry's always right. He has been since that first morning.

It's the routine of it all, but still, Eggsy whines a little, a tears sting his brilliant blue eyes as he stares up at the glitter-specked amber ceiling. "You shot me."

"You know I would never hurt you." Harry says gently, but his voice is heavy, and his arms squeeze Eggsy a little tighter. "So long as it is in my power to do so, I will protect you. I will never hurt you, Eggsy. You know that, don't you?"

Eggsy nods, and when Harry pushes him back, he lets his hands release the folds of Harry's robe--a new fleece thing the color of the sky at midnight--in favor of lying his hands flat over Harry's chest. His heart beat is slow... Soothing with its strength and steadiness. While Eggsy's is still raging.

Harry clasps his shoulders in his hands, holding him back at arm's length so Eggsy can look up at him. He's not wearing his glasses, his hair still a little unkempt from sleep, and his eyepatch snapped on with ill-precision. He looks so protective, so tense as he holds Eggsy away and just studies him. He reaches out, plucks the pendant from Eggsy's skin and weighs it in his palm. A tiny smile twitches at the corner of his mouth before he lets it fall back between the boy's collar bones on its weighted chain. "Perhaps we should have you talk to Merlin about this again."

Eggsy shakes his head, lets it fall back against the headboard. "No... Jus you is fine." He breaths, and when he looks back at Harry, Harry is smiling at him. "But, if you want, I can go see him. Maybe later. I mean, I already talked to him once... Right after the whole V-Day thing."

"Yes, I read the files."

"Wot?"

"Articulate, Eggsy."

His brows furrow and his mouth sets in a scowl. "Explain, please."

Harry's smile widens at that. "don't worry. Such interractions are completely private. The files merely stated that you came to Merlin and spoke with him about the incident in a personal manner." He smooths Eggsy's feathered bangs back from his face. "And I appreciate you talking to me about it. Is it helping?"

Eggsy nods. "Loads."

"Still a little hyped up?"

He nods again.

"We can go for a light run, if you'd like."

"Ain't you busy today?" Eggsy asks, fussing with the smooth lapels of Harry's robe. He doesn't say anything about how Harry still hasn't let him go, thumbs tracing smooth arches against his bare shoulders.

It makes his stomach quiver, and he doesn't want it to stop.

Harry gives him a smile that could almost be considered sly, if gentlemen were allowed to be so cocky. "Arthur files paperwork when Arthur feels like it." He offers. "I have other priorities that come before making sure Degore and Kay are kept busy."

"Those priorities sorted out right, Harry?" Eggsy teases, and one of the hands slides from his shoulder across his collar bones, cupping his jaw and pulling his face forward.

The smile on Harry's face softens, and the glint in his hazel eye is an entirely new and familiar glow. "Absolutely." With that, he rakes another hand through Eggsy's hair before he climbs off the bed. "Come along, JB. We'd best get your leash ready for our outing."

"You gonna go runnin' wif me in a robe?"

"I should assume not. I never have in the past." Harry deadpans, and the pug follows him out of the bedroom.

Eggsy sighs and falls over onto his bed. When he rolls over onto his stomach, he looks at the digital calendar on his bedside table.

It's been five weeks since his moving out of Harry's house fell through.

Honestly? He doesn't even mind. He can't give two shits about being stuck in a house with Harry Hart.

Every morning, he's woken by either a lovely breakfast after a tiny nightmare, a light jog after a bigger one, or a dry throat choking back tears with Harry's arms around him because he couldn't control his screaming.

Harry never berates or scolds him about his night terrors, but he is very demanding. He insists that Eggsy tell him what he dreamt before he even considers letting the younger boy go.

Sometimes, Eggsy has to edit the dreams for Harry's ears. After all, if he was dreaming about kissing Harry, Harry's hands on him, or Harry being sexually explicit with him in any way before a bullet gets lodged in his throat, he obviously has to cut that out.

He tells Harry the others; usually the same one. Harry being shot, his body crumpling beneath the dead weight. The others would be Harry shooting Eggsy, their places reversed, Eggsy being the one to shoot Harry, and even a few strange ones, like the one he had just had. He dreamt once about drowning in the first simulation, but he was alone in the room, and through the glass of the two-way mirror, he could see Harry... He had a nightmare about falling from the plane without Roxy; without a parachute. When he hit the ground, he was alive... Before Harry put a bullet through his head.

They always end the same way, though;  _bang._

They take care of each other--though Harry insists he doesn't need a nurse maid. Eggsy gets him iced water and turns off all the lights when Harry's migraines act up. He makes sure Harry has his meds every morning, does his best to keep Harry's diet up when his appetite fails.

And Merlin? Merlin keeps hitting dead ends with the flats. He has tried two others, but one was infested with some sort of creepy crawler, and the other had such a serious mold problem with the pipes it was starting to turn the walls into a tropical jungle of lychens.

One that went well was almost an hour from the tailor's, and Eggsy decided he could wait, if it was necessary, to have a decent flat close to work... And close to Harry. He found he loved staying with Harry more than he ought to. It was an incredibly comfortable domestic arrangement.

His mother drops off Daisy occasionally, and it's great watching Harry interract with her. Even if it means lying to his mother, saying, 'No, Harry's at work. Won't be back till late.' Just to see Harry sit in his lounge chair reading  _Paddington Bear and Peter Rabbit_  tales to his little sister.

And she absolutely  _adores Harry, so where's the harm in that?_

Amazingly enough, Harry even lets JB climb into his lap, nestled between his thigh and the arm of the chair, when Harry's reading. Even when Daisy isn't there, Harry doesn't mind letting the pug cuddle with him while he reads or sorts through the paper. When he's in the study doing paperwork, JB is there, too, curled on a bed that Harry-- _Harry fucking Hart--bought for him from one of the finest dog-bed-makers in Kensington._

Eggsy likes making dinner. He often has it on the table in time for Harry to come home from the office.

He's gone on two missions since Harry's return--one with a still-splinted wrist--and they both went fabulously well. The second was only a little skewed, with a  _slightly larger explosion than Eggsy had anticipated and a lot more glass shards in his cheek and arm than necessary._

He finds what he loves most about his missions is Harry's voice in his ear. Despite Merlin being kingsmen knights' Handler, Harry, acting as Arthur, was no longer required to do field work. Merlin explained this while debriefing Eggsy as a nurse plucked the glass from his skin. Arthur sat in on missions frequently, and when Eggsy heard his voice over the comm, something like electricity zapped through his veins.

It was like--though Eggsy would never admit to this outloud--hearing the voice of God. Though Merlin's voice was always welcome company in the line of duty--with explosions and gunfire and the stinging ache of lungs being overworked, muscles being strained--and Eggsy always found it reminded him he was not alone, that he had a job to do, Harry's voice was a gift. It was heavenly and soft, his accent unruffled, his words soothing. If Merlin was a reminder, Harry was an anchor.

He had to get home. He had to see Harry. Eggsy would finish the mission because he was told to do so. But he would also finish it because Harry's voice in his head was guiding him to the completion of the mission.

Because Harry told him to.

If Eggsy jacked himself to thoughts of Harry telling him to do filthy, dirty things through his comm? That was Eggsy's business. His frequented business.

It was also apparent that the fondness between them did not go unnoticed by other knights. Gawain once mentioned how innapropriate it was to continue to call Harry 'Harry' instead of Arthur. When he asked Merlin about it, Merlin replied with a simple answer. If Harry wanted Eggsy to call him 'Arthur', he'd start calling him 'Galahad'. And yes, it was true, even when he was out in the field or back at HQ, Harry still did not call Eggsy by his code name--though he was fond of calling Roxy 'Lance'.

It was pleasant, not having to lie under the weight of his knight title all the time. Though on missions and at HQ, Merlin and Roxy both kept it mostly professional. But Harry? To Harry, he was Eggsy, and if Merlin said that Harry would tell him if it upset him, then he wouldn't change unless he had to.

"Eggsy? Are you ready yet? JB and I are stretched and prepared to go." Harry calls, and the words make Eggsy giggle into his pillow.

"'M comin', 'm comin'!" He laughs, rolling out of bed. He yanks open his dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of trackies and a hoodie, tugging them on before he stuffs his bare feet into a pair of Adidas trainers. He doesn't bother brushing his hair, but he pauses in the full body mirror to at least rake his fingers through it and style it out of his face. It makes him look rumpled and sexy, lazy and incredibly fashionable at the same time.

When he prances into the living room, Harry is already there, wearing a track suit that comes far too close to a tailored bespoke tux for Eggsy's comfort. (He used to think where does Harry get these things? But, noting kingsman crest over Harry's breast, he found his answer)

Even in the track suit, Harry is still incredibly regal and suave; something that makes Eggsy's gut roll and also fills his chest with smug irritation. Yeah, Harry's gonna be by his side looking flawless, but  _Christ, he looks too flawless in an outfit that's not supposed to flatter so much as be functional._

Harry still isn't wearing his glasses, his eyepatch smoothed down and hair in perfect place. He's holding JB's leash in his hand, flicking through his phone with a look of absolute disinterest on his face.

"Nevva gonna get used to seein' you in those." Eggsy teases. "I mean a robe, sure. The suspenders an' holster? To be expected."

Harry smiles at him smoothly. "I'm wearing the holster right now."

"Shut up." Eggsy barks, but, in all honesty, it makes his cock twitch.

"Manners, Eggsy." Harry chides fondly with a shake of his head, laughing softly as he heads for the front door, JB in tow. "Come along then. Let's burn off that adrenaline so I can put you to better use." And the way his ass looks in his tailored track suit? How the curve of his back fits against the black material? The length it gives his already fit body? Eggsy has a few ideas how he can be put to better use.

If only, Eggsy sighs. If only.

**

Another two weeks passes in the same fashion. Eggsy has nightmares. Harry soothes him. They go to work, they go home. They eat dinner together. They go for jogs. Daisy comes by and falls even more in love with Harry.

Eggsy goes on a mission to China where, once he has stolen thermonuclear detonators and wrecked a helicopter, he does a long parkour video on the Great Wall which is saved in the video feed of his glasses.

He and Roxy watch it. Twice.

Harry scolds him. Once.

Eggsy makes a point of jerking off twice a week; for the greater good, of course. After all, he can't stand to be in close contact with Harry for too long before the man's scent and voice and demanding presence have Eggsy salavating.

He's become, what Roxy likes to say,  _thirsty._

He tells her it's not funny, and that he should never have trusted her with the secret that is his desperate adoration and lust for Harry Hart. She might not be able to completely understand how Eggsy feels, but she's a good bruv, and his best mate, so he feels confident sharing with her. Plus, Roxy's so intelligent, and so open-minded. Never once does she say anything about Harry's age, or about his position over them. She takes what Eggsy gives her and mulls it around.

But not without consequence. She only teases him so often, but every little jab is followed by a sympathetic laugh, and a statement along the lines of how he should tell Harry something.

Aside from that being completely innapropriate with Harry as his boss--and roommate--Eggsy knows it would just be a waste of breath. Harry is twice his age, twice as smart, and twice out of his league. There's no way Harry would be interested--in the least.

That is... That's what Eggsy tells himself. He never tells Roxy about the kiss, that first day he learned of Harry's return. He's supposed to have forgotten by now.

Harry certainly has.

Even currently, as Eggsy receives a text from his mother, Harry is sitting in his armchair with JB on his lap, reading what looks like an incredibly dry magazine on the benefits of kale when incorporated into a well-tuned diet.

He  _definitely doesn't look like he's thinking about the way he shoved Eggsy up against a wall and plundered his mouth with his hot, wet tongue and demanding teeth. Nope._

_Wanker._

Eggsy pops up and scuttles off to his room, shooting his mother back a reply before he starts changing.

"'Ve go'a go watch Daisy for my mum down at the Crumpet Hut." He says, tugging on his black track suit jacket, the one with the yellow stripes that, curiously enough, catch Harry's eye when he wears it.

When he comes back into the sitting room, Harry actually gives him a once-over at the fine black material hugging his frame. But his composure quickly returns when he looks back down at his article, then blinks. Twice.

The Harry lifts his head from the mag and stops scratching at JB's ears. "Excuse me;  _Crumpet Hut?" He says it like Eggsy just said he's going to visit his mother in prison._

It makes Eggsy giggle as he tugs on the brim of his black cap. "Yah. 'S a diner down on the Avenue. Make the best damn milkshakes; probably too exclusive for you. She works there every ovva day. Told her not to work at all, but she won' listen." With that, he pauses in front of the long mirror by the front door. He smooths out the front of his Polo and tips his head to the side. Pausing, he reaches into his shirt and pulls out the medal Harry gave him when he was just a kid. It catches the light coming through the half-moon window of the front door.

As always, sharp as steel.

"May I come along?" Harry asks, and it makes Eggsy jump. He's taken aback, as he was still preening over his reflection.

"Wot?" He asks, turning to see that Harry has already folded his mag and moved to make JB hop off his lap to the floor.

"Yes, I should think I'd like to get out of the house a bit. Get some fresh air--perhaps a milkshake."

Eggsy can't swallow his laugh. It bubbles up out of him like liquid cotton candy; light and sugary despite being so thick and loud. " _You? Harry Hart drinkin' a milkshake." He slaps his hand over the top of his head, pressing his cap down firmly._

The frown Harry gives him makes him laugh harder. "Nothing wrong with a good milkshake, and apparently, by your standards, they make the best."

"Oh, Christ, Harry. Now you hafta come wif me. JB!" He orders the dog into the dining room and leaves him there with a mug of cold tea and buscuits. "Be good now, bruv. Your da's gonna go take Harry out for a milkshake." The sentence itself makes him titter, and when he turns around, Harry is leaning in the doorway.

He's already pulled on his Oxfords and pinstripe jacket, and he's crossed his arms to enhance the displeasure showing on his face--and the slim line of his buttoned waist. "It's hardly that humerous, Eggsy."

"Oh, 's humerous enuff."

Harry rolls his eyes, dropping the argument as he takes his umbrella from the coat rack. "You need to stop feeding him like that. He's going to become obese and die."

"No way. He's fit as his da." Eggsy retorts, not bothering to mention how Harry fries him extra bacon when cooking them breakfast. He pats the crumbs off his hands, stooping to squish JB's face up and kiss him square on his bristly mouth. "Be good."

"Shall we take the car?" Harry asks as they stroll down the front walk of the flat together, and Eggsy shakes his head abruptly.

Eggsy licks his lips, eyeing Harry up and down when Harry looks to the parking spaces where their private cars are sitting--one silver, one black. Against the cool gray sky and accompanied by the scent of rain, Harry is almost too glamorous and stunning to look at for long.

Like the sun, Eggsy thinks again, as Harry shines out against the grayscale that is the dreary London morning, splashes of red, blue, and the jade of the trees dulled by comparison to his radiance. The line of his throat is pale, his stark white shirt collar a contrast against the black of his coat. His hair is melted chocolate, brushed down into a perfect coif, his profile a smooth, carved line of pale skin against the deep gray sky.

His eye burns whiskey. His mouth is rose...

"Eggsy?" Harry asks again, and Eggsy must, once again, berrate himself mentally.

He has to stop taking personal trips on Harry Hart.

"Nope. We gonna take the tram, like common folk." He teases, layering his composure on like he knows how by now.

"Honestly, Eggsy, you act as if I've never been to a train station. I've had my fair share of missions that involved the aspects of a common life." Harry says, and by god, it's dripping with unintentional pretentious swagger.

Eggsy claps him on the shoulder, leans into him to feel his warmth. "I can imagine."

"I'm sure you'd add great embellishment to the tale of how I took down a nasty occult leader by the name of Namian Crook on the back of a bullet train." Harry deadpans, even as he follows Eggsy down the sidewalk and into the fray of people.

" _Christ, you don't mean that incident ten years back when that train blew up? All over the news?"_

"Just so."

"Harry,  _Harry." Eggsy whines, and when he looks up, Harry is smiling down at him. Wings flutter in the pit of his gut. "We have got to talk more about your adventures."_

**

Honestly, Harry likes the Crumpet Hut. It's a fine diner, embellished with red vinyl booths, checkered floor tiles, and a beautiful wall composed completely of windows that overlooks the street, which is now being drizzled on.

They take a booth seat, and when Eggsy sits down, his leg bumps lightly against Harry's under the table.

He leaves it there.

Harry doesn't mind.

These are the kinds of things he likes to push on. How far can he go? What kind of contact can he get away with? How much can he say before Harry pushes on to another subject?

It's been miss and miss for him, honestly. But Eggsy just can't forget that bloody kiss. He wants another. Maybe, if he can break Harry, he'll get one. Then again, maybe Harry was just as serious as he had looked--maybe he would keep his word until his dying breath.

Still... There are some luxuries in his new life that Eggsy likes better than others. Physical contact with Harry Hart is one of them.

When Michelle shows up about fifteen minutes later with Daisy and her daybag, she halts several feet away and gives Harry the most hideous glare.

Oh, right.

Eggsy tugs on the brim of his hat, looks at her imploringly. He should have known better than to bring Harry with him. He might be on much better terms with Harry--having never held a grudge in the first place, at least over his father--but his mother still despises the man, and scolds Eggsy every day over the fact that he  _still hasn't moved out yet._

It's a real pain, but when she sees how desperate he looks, she walks on over, Daisy still oblivious to the presence of her brother or Harry.

"You're early."

"Caught the tram right on time." Eggsy beams.

" _You're an arse face." She turns her attention to Harry, and the whiskey-eyed man drops his gaze and suppresses what Eggsy thinks could be caught between a laugh and a distasteful sigh._

"Once again, you're looking well."

She rolls her eyes, chews on her lip before she bounces Daisy and tells Eggsy, "Carol will be here for her in about half an hour. I promise; no later."

"It's fine, mum. Big bruv loves spendin' time wif his lil flowah."

Michelle laughs softly at that, handing the daybag over to Eggsy's waiting hand. He tucks it into the booth seat beside him. "Well then, can big bruv take the little lady so mum can get to work??" With that, she moves like she's going to hand Daisy over to the elder Unwin.

That's when Harry's eye sparkles, and he turns to her with an honest, almost pleading smile.

"Oh, permit me." Harry says softly, holding his arms out expectantly.

Michelle looks down at him like his hands are dripping with acid, before turning her gaze to Eggsy. He settles against the vinyl booth more comfortably, pressing his lips to a fine line to suppress his smile. He crosses his arms, a sign that he will  _not be taking his sister from his mother's arms._

When Michelle opens her mouth to give him some form of protest, Daisy beats her to the punch.

"Arry!" The little Unwin exclaims, and she's flapping her arms at him expectantly now that she's caught sight of him.

Eggsy snorts, clapping his hand over his mouth to hide his laughter at the comical expressions on Harry and his mother's faces. While Harry looks rightly smug, his mother looks like she's just been told her child has run away from home to marry a Russian general.

Turning to glare down at Eggsy, Michelle's face flushes a brilliant shade of pink. Eggsy shrugs. "Lady's choice?"

Huffing indignantly, his mother hands Daisy over to the man in the bespoke suit. "Thank you kindly, Michelle. I'm growing rather fond of this one." Harry says lightly, and Daisy is already giving him a gap-toothed grin, reaching up to smack the meat of his cheek playfully. God, he's the most amazing thing Eggsy's ever seen when he's like this.

"Hn, like you dun got yourself mighty fond o' my Eggsy, yah?" Michelle asks dryly, and Eggsy sits upright at the statement.

"Mum." He warns softly, reaching out to clutch her hand. He flicks his gaze over to Harry, because there are things that he simply cannot let his old mentor know.

"Quite fond, yes." Harry says easily enough, his hazel eye locked to Eggsy's face, unwavering. He shifts his leg so that it's nestled between Eggsy's knees--innocent enough, and not enough contact to do anything more than send about a thousand volts of white-hot electricity through Eggsy's body.

He blinks under Harry's long gaze.

There's something else there, something deeper and darker that Eggsy can't stand trying to read. It has to be his mind. He was told to forget. He had to...

Still, it causes a flush to creep up Eggsy's neck, and he ducks his head and presses his mouth to keep from smiling like a twit. "Anyway, I'm quite fond ovva strawberry milkshake. So can we get two o' those??" Eggsy asks, tilting his head back until it touches the booth and he's grinning up at his mother like it's Christmas.

If Harry stares at the length of his throat bared against the open collar of his jacket, Eggsy  _definitely doesn't notice._

Michelle sighs, exasperated, before she struts off to the back, lacing her apron about her waist as she goes.

Harry gives Eggsy a quizical glance when he tips his head back up, bouncing Daisy lightly on his knee. The image gives the coils in Eggsy's heart a tiny, impolite squeeze.

"She's just still a lil' incredulous bout the 'ole situation 'm in." Eggsy knight explains, reaching up to tuck a few errant strands of hair behind his ear. "I mean, I fink she'd call me a liar bout the 'ole thing, you bein' dead an' all, if she hadn't seen..." Eggsy breaks off, because no, he can't say that.

The Harry tilts his head to the side, not in scrutiny, but in wonder.

"Hadn't seen what, Eggsy?"

Well, why the fuck not? If Harry felt even more guilty about what he'd done, Eggsy would feel better about being kept in the dark. He still hadn't forgiven Harry for that--and Harry still hadn't apologized, so fuck it.

"...How wrecked I wos about losin' you..."

Neither of them speak for a great deal of time, and Eggsy wishes he could see something like recognition or understanding or empathy in Harry's face. But Harry is too still, and his every feature too neutral.

Eggsy clears his throat. "Plus she don't like me comin' home wif bruises an' such. Says it reminds her too much ov what it is 'm doin' each time I leave. She's  _especially still angry about me livin' wif you." And Jesus, really, when was Merlin going to secure him a flat that wouldn't blow up or have pests or be a life's drive from the Tailor's?? (Not like he'd asked in about three weeks, but nobody had to know that.)_

Harry nods. "No doubt my fault. After all, I didn't do the very best job of protecting the last Unwin left in my charge."

Eggsy doesn't even flinch at that. "S alright. I'm twice the knight me da was. An' besides, you don't go'a look afta me. I can watch my back all meself."

"Another pair of eyes on your back can't hurt."

"A pair? Maybe. One?  _Hm." Eggsy teases in a high whine, and Harry cracks a tiny grin at that, directing it at Daisy so he can pretend it's not for the knight across the table._

Michelle returns and sets down two strawberry milkshakes, cream whipped on the top and a cherry adorning each like a tiny kiss.

"Thanks, mum." Eggsy beams, unwrapping his striped straw with a beaming grin.

"Now you don't go spoilin' yourself no more today. I mean it now, Eggsy."

"Yah, yah. A'course." He retorts, and his mother gives Harry another sideways glare before she moves to leave. Then Eggsy's hand flies out and catches her wrist. "You didn' poison it, did you?"

" _Eggsy." Michelle barks._

Harry smiles fondly at Eggsy sitting across from him.

"No, really, if you did, you'd betta say sumfin', cause we's tradin'." Eggsy says slowly, then reaches out and wraps his fingers around the neck of Harry's tall glass.

Michelle smacks his hand, an errant curl of gold falling free from her headband and bun combo.

"Ow!"

"It's not poisoned, you cheeky brat. God." With that, she glares down at Harry. "I may want to wring the life outta you, but my boy cares about you. And so long as you make him happy--though I can't see  _how--then you're not gonna get poisoned." She huffs before she's off again, strutting away to another table to take an order._

Her words take Harry back for a moment, but he turns his head and smiles at Eggsy either way, the light in his eye a glow of tender affection.

Eggsy laughs, shaking his head as he draws his milkshake closer to the edge of the table so he doesn't have to lift it to drink from the straw. Harry's 'predilection', as Merlin put it, was plain as day in his stare. Roxy called it a Tell; a weakness, the visible evidence of Harry's soft spot for him.

He doesn't read into it like they do.

Daisy curls into Harry's chest while he plucks the paper wrapping off of his straw with deft fingers. "Tell me, Eggsy, I'm sure your new position, or at least its pay grade, is something your mother is aware of; though she believes you work at a very dangerous tailor's." Eggsy snickers at that before Harry continues. "Is there a particular reason she's bustling about this second-street diner as if she were struggling to pay rent?"

At that, Eggsy pulls his mouth off of his straw with a tiny, indignant slurp. A few drops of creamy pink fluid cling to his lips before he swipes them up with his tongue. If Harry follows the motion with his good eye, Eggsy doesn't see it. (He doesn't see much, to be honest.) He traces his mouth with his thumb, making sure his face is clean before he speaks. "No, no, she knows enuff. After all, when I moved into your 'ouse I got them their own flat. She knows about the pay." He smiles fondly then, watching his mother grin brightly at a couple sitting several tables down as she takes their order. "I think she does this because she honestly likes it. You know; the talkin wif people, the friendly interaction an' such. She's always liked people."

Harry hums contentedly, sticking his straw into the milkshake.

"Wot?"

"That look on your face; when you talk about your mother? It's a very pleasant expression." Harry says, and then he's tucking his head forward and taking the straw between his lips, giving it a light suck.

And Eggsy is so stumped, and the air leaves his lungs and blood paints his cheeks; but he's also so indignantly  _angry! Because of course_  Harry Hart can make sucking a pink milkshake through a striped straw look like fucking majestic, gentlemanly art.

It was  _supposed to be funny!!_

Really, it just makes Eggsy's cock swell against his jeans, the way his incredibly lips press together, wrapped around the straw so precariously. It's incredible, the tiny hollow his cheeks get, drawing it in... The denim is terribly constricting, pinning Eggsy's throbbing length against the sinew of his thigh.

His mouth is a cotton field, and he's openly staring at Harry's mouth, his own hanging open while his lids droop.

"Eggsy?"

Back to reality.

"Shut up. My face is not pleasant." Eggsy shoots back, ducking his head and crossing his ankles to hide his discomfort at being so suddenly stricken by the desire tumbling through his gut. His legs knock against Harry's again, rubbing before they settle knee to knee, calf to calf.

Harry smiles brightly at that, stirring his straw through the slowly melting contents of his glass. "I think your face is very pleasant. I find looking at it very satisfying." His voice sounds a little darker than it should, the last word quaking, and Eggsy looks up at him through the fringe of his lashes.

Mistake. God, mistake after  _mistake with this boy._

Harry's looking at him like he wants to eat him  _alive. Hell, maybe he does. The dark glow in his eye as he stares at Eggsy, head tipped back slightly, chest puffed out, shoulders squared... It's positively alpha_. It has Eggsy's already roused cock positively  _tingling. It's a possessive stare--one Eggsy hasn't seen since that unforgettable kiss--like Harry wants to consume and destroy him..._

Eggsy would let him.

He pinches the stem of his cherry between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry follows the action, but he doesn't break Eggsy's stare when Eggsy closes his teeth on the little round fruit, tugging it from the stem. He tucks it into his mouth with a swipe of his tongue, and he sees Harry's throat bob when he has to run his tongue along his lip to clean up a droplet of blood-colored juice.

"I find your face is also satisfying to look at, Harry." Eggsy says quietly, and he presses his knees inward lightly, essentially grabbing at Harry's knee between them.

Harry smiles, but there's no longer tenderness in it. It's just an attempt to dampen down the heat burning in his gaze. It's politely carnal.

"Even with the eyepatch? There's no need for pleasantries, Eggsy."

" _Especially with the eyepatch." Eggsy replies. "A constant reminder; how strong you are, what happened... That you came back." To me_  hangs on his lips, but that's too much. "Plus, it gives you an edge to your gentlemanly swagger. You wos always sharp, but now, you's positively deadly."

"And that is satisfying to you?" Harry inquires with an arch of his brow.

The grin that touches Eggsy's lips is a tad too sinful for the hour of the day, but it has the desired effect, as Harry sits up a little straighter.

"Damn well satisfying."

Harry laughs, the tone shaky and laced with a few emotions Eggsy's never recognized in Harry's voice before. "Eggsy, come now. You can't honestly think anything about me is anything more than perfunctoraly average. Even before the eyepatch. And  _now, I..." Harry shakes his head, hugging Daisy to his chest like a shield. "I'm damaged goods." The way he says it... It's almost like he's finally admitting it to himself. But it's not shameful, and it's not pained. He says it as if that's just the way things are._

Whatever Eggsy had planned to say goes out the window when Harry's whole expression shifts, a look of intense vulnerability crossing his face. Instead, he says, "Harry, you're perfect."

Shit.

_Shit._

He didn't really mean to say that! It just tumbled out, like things often do with Eggsy's mouth. His filter? Nonexistent.

But he holds his composure, because his words are honest, and his feelings are true. He prides himself on at least being honest enough to stand by something he believes in--when he's dumb enough to let other people in on it.

Harry's expression is one Eggsy's never seen on his face before. It's so open, so light... And his gaze is piercing; like it's the first time he's ever looked at Eggsy before. Like it's the first time he's seeing something there that Eggsy isn't quite sure really exists... There's so much tension between them, but it's not agonizing and hot, the draw of unresolved lust and the desire and craving of more. Nor is it the pressure that usually lingers in a charge between them...

This is soft and thin, tiny sparks and pink smoke that blurs out the rest of the world.

Eggsy blinks.

When did his hand find its way to Harry's on the table top? When did Harry open his palm up for him so that Eggsy could dip his fingers against his like some fair bird? How is it that his hand feels like this is exactly where it belongs; where it's  _always belonged, in Harry's light grasp?_

The touch is warm and quiet, Harry's fingertips brushing his palm, and vice versa, with the gun calloused pad of a thumb running over a scar on Eggsy's knuckle.

This is hardly the most affectionate they've ever been--aside from the kiss, each morning wrapped up in Harry's arms is quite positively intimate.

But it feels like something new to Eggsy...

It feels like something heavier. Something  _more._

He almost expects to hear a gun cock in the back of his head, feel the nose press to the underside of his jaw... He feels like there should be the weight of a pistol in his hand before he fires a bullet through Harry's brain.

It has to be a dream.

...But it's not.

It's real, and it's so, so beautiful. Eggsy's face and neck flush, and he swallows against the rising wave of bubbles popping in his chest, making him giddy and light.

Harry's mouth opens, then closes. He parts his lips... Then smiles. It's not like the polite smiles he offers most people. It's not like the sarcastic grins he gives Merlin. It's something brighter and fonder than the smiles he gives Eggsy when they're in private; when he's congratulating him on a mission, showing him how to properly poach eggs, scolding him for this or that,when he's smoothing his hair back from his sweaty face after a night terror...

This smile is adoring, and it's so, so right...

Stones gargle around in Eggsy's stomach, sinking down so that it feels like the wings have twice the room to flit and flutter about now. When he experiences a full body shudder, his muscles twitch, and he finds himself  _really holding Harry Hart's hand._

And Harry doesn't pull away. Matter of fact, he presses his thumb in an arch over Eggsy's battered knuckles, touches his racing pulse point with the tip of his index finger--his hands are so large, and so incredibly strong.

Those talented fingers Eggsy has seen lace up Oxfords and button down wool coats and take apart well-oiled guns and fold puff pastry over chocolate mousse... He wants them dancing all over his skin.

"Harry--"He says, and his voice is so soft, his throat so dry.

Before either of them can say anything else, Daisy squeals in delight, and twists as she flails. Her action takes Harry's glasses off of his face, slides them down around his mouth like a muzzle. Eggsy doesn't even have time to laugh at the awstruck look Harry's wearing. He jerks back in time to see Carol and her son, little Jack, walking towards them, and the contact between himself and Harry is completely severed--hands, knees... hearts.

"Is that little Eggsy Unwin?" The curly haired ginger calls, toting her five year old close behind. He's smiling at Daisy like she's a super hero, grinning ear to ear to show off his missing front teeth.

"Ja! Jay!" Daisy calls, slapping her hands on Harry's shoulders.

He's still caught in a state of stupefaction, his face a mask of blank confusion, his glasses on his lips.

"Hi, Carol." Eggsy greets, and he stands up and hugs her out of polite duty.

"You look so handsome!" The woman laughs, taking him by the cheeks to give his face a closer inspection. "Your mother tells me you're working at a  _tailor's? Since when does Eggsy 'Daredevil'_  Unwin want to mend seams and stitch buttons?"

"It's a lot more exciting than it sounds." Eggsy says playfully, then glances down at Harry who his heart was racing for. "In fact, this is my boss. Harry, this is Carol, my mother's best friend. Carol? Harry, my...  _Ehemm." His voice falls out of place, and Eggsy has to clear his throat and drop his hand from where he's been holding it out to present Harry like a grand prize. He was such an idiot. "Boss."_

Carol takes one look at Harry, who has finally found the wherewithal to adjust his glasses and turn Daisy round so she can paw at Jack's wild auburn curls, and her jaw drops.

"Sweet Lord, have mercy." She gasps, then lowers her voice to a tone still too loud for how close they're standing to Harry. "Eggsy, my goodness, he's so  _handsome."_

Eggsy blushes so hard his ears burn, and Harry presses his mouth to a fine line and refuses to look up. "Lovely to meet you, madam." He says, holding out his hand and giving her a graceful shake. Eggsy can see him hesitate to kiss her knuckles--but that may be a step too far with how infatuated she has already become.

"And so polite! And rugged--an eyepatch? Is being a tailor quite so dangerous? Your mother says you always come home with bruises and the like." Carol continues on, patting Eggsy's shoulder. "But my, he's  _lovely, Eggsy. Are you single, Mr. Harry?" She asks with a shake of her hips and a sly grin._

Eggsy falters, his eyes widening and his blood boiling under his skin at the sudden peak in Carol's curiosity. He can't look at Harry, but he feels Harry staring at him as he tucks his hands into his pockets and chews the inside of his lip to keep from screaming.

There's something about Carol that is so completely loveable. Aside from her incredibly fit figure, her drawling Scottish accent, her lovely red curls, and her cinnamon freckles, she's also sharp as a tack and about as smooth as bread pudding, which makes her seem bold and inviting at the same time.

She's also much, much closer to Harry's age than Eggsy is... Not to mention, again, a lovely bird.  _Bird._

He thinks composure, composure, finesse, elegance, calm... Rage.

Something dominating and possessive riots in his chest, and he wants to swat Carol's question in the face with the Saturday post. Of course Harry's not single. He's  _Eggsy's!_

_He's mine!!_

But he would look completely mental if he said that out loud.

Still, Harry is a professional, and he scans Carol up and down and laughs, holding Daisy's hand in his when she lays back against his chest.

"I'm afraid not, madam. I'm quite married to my work, as it were." He says cooly, then, "And besides, with such a handsome young boy and a lovely ring on your finger, you must be well taken care of."

Score one for Eggsy. He tastes copper on his tongue, then laughs nonchalantly. "Thas Harry for you--married to his work. What a posh answer, bruv."

That earns him a callous twitch of Harry's mouth, because Harry  _hates being called Eggsy's bruv._

"I'm single, as it were, actually. Little Jack's dad passed about a year ago. I wear the ring because it's lovely. But I could take it off for a fine bloke like yourself." Carol says playfully...

But Eggsy feels the screws in his head spinning loose, and he leans back against the booth, crossing his ankles, and he can't mask the look of aghast shame and disbelief on his face.

Harry laughs politely, petting Daisy's hair. "Well... That's very kind of you, Carol. But, even if I were not in a very committed relationship with my work, I'm afraid my affections still would not be on the market. I've invested them elsewhere, as it were."

Eggsy pauses.

Carol whistles low, her smile growing. "Ah. Fancy yourself an intended then? Posh bloke like you might use the word enamored, yeah?"

Eggsy's heart is beating out of his throat, his ribs curling like thorny vines backwards into his lungs. The strangest part? When Harry answers, Eggsy can feel his stare, hot like a red poker, through his skin.

"Quite enamored." Harry states.

Eggsy slides down into the booth and sucks his straw into his mouth, nearly downing the rest of his milkshake in two drags. "Well, there's Daisy. Here's you. We'd best be gettin' a move on now, Harry." He says, hopping up and taking his sister from Harry, who gives her up with more reluctance than one should have for a child that isn't theirs.

Harry frowns at him. "I've not finished my milkshake."

"I can get ya a to-go cup. Mum! To-go cup over here for Harry!" Eggsy says, and then he's handing Daisy off to Carol like a carton of milk. "Here's her daybag. Make sure she gets a sweet treat later for bein' a good girl, yah?"

"Ggsy!" Daisy coos, and he kisses her plump cheek.

"Of course, dove." Carol replies, and she gives Harry another smooth smile. "You have a lovely day, Mr. Harry. Be sure to tell that intended of yours she's a right lucky gal."

"Once again, thank you, madam. I'll be sure to tell them." He doesn't say  _she. He's still_  looking at Eggsy, despite the fact Carol is speaking to him.

Christ, Eggsy's reading  _waaaaay too deep into this. When his mother brings over a to-go cup, he kisses her on the cheek and waits until she's fallen into conversation with Carol to slip away with Harry in tow--milkshake forgotten in favor of the way Eggsy has gone completely steely._

It's raining quite steadily now, and Harry snaps his umbrella open while Eggsy walks on ahead of him.

"Eggsy! I'm not sure if you noticed the sky's built-in sprinkler system has been activated, but you are getting your favorite track jacket and cap perfectly soppy." Harry says, dry as the desert despite the downpour from the sky, and he catches up to Eggsy on the corner and snags his wrist. " _Eggsy."_

"I can't do this, Harry. I can't." Eggsy snaps, turning to face Harry. He blinks up at him through the rain, because Harry's umbrella is tilted at an angle, and the rain is still plinking against his skin.

He hates himself for feeling this week. He hates himself for letting such a thing slip from his mouth when he's supposed to be a Kingsman. He's been in worse shape than this before; faced bigger enemies much farther from home. But one thing Eggsy Unwin can't conquer is his own heart.

Harry's brows furrow, and he drops Eggsy's hand like it has stung him. When he recovers, he cups Eggsy's cheek and forces the younger boy to look up at him. "Eggsy, my boy, what are you talking about?"

"How can you do this to me? How can you look at me and completely miss  _everything?!" Eggsy whines, and some of his hair is painted to his forehead, and the touch of Harry's hand on his cheek is burning up like the sun against how the rain has chilled him. "I feel like I'm losin' my mind! I... I don't want to be crazy."_

"Eggsy... I told you before; I can't." Harry says, running a thumb under Eggsy's eye, fingers curling under his jaw.

"can't  _wot?! You never actually explained_  anything to me. You just--"No. He can't mention the kiss... He wouldn't push Harry away like that. couldn't bring himself to do it. "...What do you want, Harry?"

"I... don't understand what you're asking." Harry takes a step forward, shielding Eggsy from the rain with the brim of his umbrella. He tucks it under his armpit, holding it up expertly so he can touch Eggsy's face with both hands, one hand brushing his bangs out of the way, the other smoothing a thumb beneath his plush bottom lip.

Eggsy just... can't help but wonder. He wants to rise up onto his toes and touch his mouth to Harry's...

So he does.

Or, rather, he  _tries._

His lips barely get the slightest brush against Harry's--and it's like fire and starlight and then ashes--before Harry's pulling back, his hands cupping Eggsy's face gripping a little more tightly, holding him still, holding him down.

Thunder rumbles across the sky, like the tumbling weight of Eggsy's shattered spirit.

Eggsy's heart clenches up, and the breath gets trapped in his lungs. He blinks the remnants of rain water out of his lashes, licking his lips and swallowing the lump caught in his throat.

Harry's staring at him with something close to disappointment in his eyes. It's almost reproachful, but at the same time, Eggsy sees the guilt. The whiskey-eyed man draws back, squaring his jaw.

Eggsy wants to scream. He wants to beat his clenched fists against Harry's chest, wants to cry, cry... More than anything, he just wants Harry to tell him it's alright. He wants to hear that he's loved...

_Love me. Love me like I love you._

The thought makes Eggsy hiccup, and he whimpers when Harry's hands slide from his cheeks to his throat.

If he's not allowed to remember a single  _kiss,_ Eggsy knows he's certainly not allowed to be in love...

He almost wants to beg Harry to choke the life from him. Maybe he could wring the pain out of him.

Harry opens his mouth to say something--to make or break Eggsy forever...

And his phone rings shrilly from his breast pocket.

Neither of them move. Though the sound clearly startles them, they hold each other's gaze, unwavering, and the rain patters on the umbrella with a crescendo of thunder.

Harry lets go of Eggsy's throat in favor of pulling his phone from his pocket, and when he swipes the screen and turns away, the umbrella shifts...

And Eggsy is standing in the quickly drawing rain.

Harry speaks quietly and efficiently, then tucks his phone back into his pocket.

Eggsy is panting, a volcanic sense of panic rumbling up in his chest. He thinks he may be on the verge of a panic attack, so he follows through his instructions, remembers his training.

He counts down from ten, gulping down air then letting it out slowly. He blinks the warmth of tears out of his eyes, lifts his cap with one hand, and sweeps his damp hair back underneath it before he straightens it back into place. He tugs on the front of his jacket, trying to smooth it out, and he wishes he were wearing his glasses or a comm, because he suddenly feels incredibly naked and lonely...

But the pendant around his neck is white hot.

Harry turns back to him, and whatever warmth or tenderness he held in his gaze before is completely gone. "We're needed at HQ. Kingsman emergency."

He moves to walk around Eggsy when Eggsy catches his elbow.

"Harry...?" It's not supposed to be a question... But there's no way he can steady his voice long enough to make it anything else.

"...Forget that ever happened." Harry says quietly.

Eggsy wants to make it into something more. He wants to push Harry, to yell at him and demand that he admit that he can't forget either.

Obviously, if Harry remembers telling him that, he remembers the kiss.

_The kiss, the fucking kiss!!!!_

But he drops it. He dusts it under the rug, lets go of Harry's arm, and nods.

What else can he do?

If he can't forget... He has to pretend.

He's a Kingsman. He has a job to do.

His heart will have to wait.

**

The mission goes off without a hitch, and another mad man trying to take over the world--with some kind of killer pollen--has been vanquished.

And to think, it only took three days. Apparently, the emergency status was due to the fact that he had four locations across the globe that ran about twenty smaller locations that were to release the toxic pollen, killing anyone who hadn't paid for the vaccine.

Everyone returns to HQ in one piece, aside from Gawain getting his shoulder dislocated and Eggsy getting a solid punch to the face that gives him a handsome cut over his left eyebrow.

Roxy teases him as he's being debriefed. "You look like you were trying to be as badass as Harry--and failed." She laughs, pressing a cold cloth to the cut. "Like you couldn't push the blade."

"Thas not funny, Rox. Harry got shot in the head, and yous makin' me sound like a fangirl for it." Eggsy shoots back, scratching down another half-assed map from memory of the plant he'd exploded.

She shrugs, her ponytail falling over her shoulder. "Well, aren't you?"

And Merlin gives them both a quizzical glance before he sits back and scribbles something down on his clipboard and tucks Eggsy's crude pathway under a few sheets of notes. "Well, that'll be all, Galahad. Seems like your branch of the mission went  _second most smoothly."_

"Not most smoothly?"

"No. Not most, thank you." Roxy says, sitting back and crossing her legs before she tosses the damp cloth at Eggsy's face. "My much more tactical stealth maneuver of sinking the plant I was charged with was far less extravagant and not nearly as expensive as your firework show in downtown Mumbai."

Eggsy groans loudly, kicking his foot out, his Oxford catching her calf before she pulls it out of the way. "Well, it's easy enuff to be stealthy when your villain overlord hide-out is hangin' off the edge of a cliff in Canada."

She shrugs, her mouth a ruby grin. "Merlin, tell him that has nothing to do with it."

"That has nothing to do with it, Galahad." Merlin replies quietly without looking up from his notes. He jots something else down.

"Wot? You can't just agree with her!! She has no point!"

"don't I have a very valid point, Merlin?" Roxy replies, looking over her shoulder.

Harry looks up, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly, and he meets Roxy's gaze.

Something  _clicks._

"Yes, Galahad, she has a very valid point." He replies, and something almost pink is tinting his throat before he ducks his head and writes something else.

Eggsy slaps his own knee with one hand and points an accusatory finger at Merlin with the other. "She has got you so whipped."

"I beg your-- _whipped??"_ Merlin demands, and Roxy hops out of her chair and takes a few clipped steps over to him, her bespoke dress and half-jacket accentuating her curves as she goes.

"don't worry, Lynn. Some people like it kinky." Lancelot says boldly, cupping his cheek and rising onto her toes to plant a playful kiss on Merlin's jaw.

" _Kinky?!"_ Merlin exclaims, aghast. Now his ears match his neck.

"Lynn?" Eggsy teases, crossing his arms over his chest before he sidles up out of his chair. "I really rather like that, bruv.  _Lynn."_

"You cheeky little--"Merlin growls, just as the door is opening behind them.

"Merlin." Harry says.

"Arthur." Merlin replies.

" _Harry."_ Eggsy gasps.

_Home._

"Everyone needs to stop, because I don't know whose name to say." Roxy breaks in, and Eggsy, Harry, and Merlin turn to look at her as she fusses with the brass buttons of her double-breasted coat.

Harry sighs. "Thank you, Lancelot. Merlin? A word. Alone." When he says that, he looks down at Eggsy, but doesn't meet his gaze.

It's painfully dismissive, and for this being the first time Eggsy has seen Harry in three days, it hurts a bit more than it probably should. Sure, he'd had his voice in his ear a handful of times, but with a mission this spread out, Eggsy found himself alone with his thoughts and a gun more often than not. His heart is instantly hammering away, and he has so many questions, so many things he wants to say.

He's standing there in his best suit, his tie a little askew, his hair a bit unkempt, and he wants to throw himself into Harry's arms. He's been sleep deprived for three days, so no night terrors, but the terror is real enough when his eyes are open.

But he's seeing Harry, finally, and he looks so gorgeous with his hair combed back and his jaw set. His suit is a slimming gray that cuts him dangerously against the deep violet and bronze rosemaling of Merlin's office walls.

He glances at Eggsy, and Eggsy feels himself swallow around a tight knot in his throat, and he gets that feeling again, like Harry is looking at him, but seeing through him.

Roxy takes Eggsy's arm and ushers him along when he stares at Harry a little too hard. When the contact is broken, Eggsy spins around and follows her out, shutting the door behind them and letting himself fall into one of the chairs in the hallway.

"Shit, shit, shit." He rasps, clapping a clammy hand over his face.

"What's the matter, Galahad? King has no time for you today?" A ginger in a spectacularly ruined bespoke suit says as he walks down the hall towards them.

"Get bent, Kay; bloody wanker." Eggsy growls, but he immediately sits erect and does his best to catch his breath.

"Oh, so articulate. That's exactly the way to get Arthur's attention. Of course, favorite gets first pick on everything." Kay says snidely, crossing his arms over his chest.

Roxy steps between them, and though she's most definitely smaller than Kay, he immediately takes a step back from the fire in her gaze.

After all, they didn't call her Lancelot for nothing.

"Bugger off, Kay. You keep bothering Galahad, I'll be inclined to accidentally brush ten-thousand volts of electricity through your prick." At that, she flicks his belt buckle in warning with a well-manicured fingernail.

He takes a  _much bigger_ step back this time.

"Understand?"

"Nice guard dog you got there, Gal. I'll be seeing you two at the next meeting." Kay grumbles, fixing his tattered jacket before he moves down the hall.

Eggsy thunks his head against the wall, and his glasses teeter on his nose. "What a fuckin' prick. What'd I do to him? Even Percival likes me better 'an him.  _Tristan_ likes me better!"

"I think he's a little jealous of your position."

"In Kingsman, or with Harry? Cause nothin' to be jealous of there." Eggsy grunts.

Roxy gasps lightly, flailing her hand in the air. "My glasses! I left my glasses on Merlin's desk. Shit, he's gonna give me an earful."

Eggsy gives her an incredulous stare. "Not like you dropped them off a cliff in Canada, Rox. I doubt he can be that sore wif ya for leavin' em on his desk."

"It's very irresponsible, Eggsy."

At that, he pulls his off, pinches one stem, and twists it around briskly. "You sayin we've got a feed into Merlin's office... Yah?" He says with a devilish grin.

Roxy's crystal honey eyes widen. "...Eggsy, no."

He springs up, slipping his glasses on as he starts down the hall, pressing a series of tiny buttons on the underside of one frame.

"Eggsy! That's entirely inappropriate!"

"I wanna know wos goin' on in there. can't be anything too serious." He chokes on his own spit at a sudden thought. "Unless you think they're knockin' the boots in there. Or rather, the Brogues."

" _Eggsy!" Roxy slaps the back of his head with a loud clap at that._

"I'll let you see!" He replies with a snicker, and when she tries to pry the glasses from his hand, the feed kicks in, and both of their comms sync to the link from Roxy's glasses.

" _\--hardly fair for you to say that, Harry. What about the other parties involved?"_ Merlin's voice demands flatly, and Roxy and Eggsy both still, the left lense of his glasses now lit up with the feed of the office.

There's hardly any color, but from where the glasses are sitting, they can see a cut of Merlin behind his desk, and Harry's fingers thrumming on the edge.

" _The other parties meaning?"_ Harry's voice is smooth and calculated.

Eggsy swallows. He hates when Harry sounds like that--like the first day he came back, going through his whole speech and mission assignments like it was nothing.

Merlin groans. " _Eggsy."_

" _And yourself?"_

" _Just Eggsy."_

Roxy and Eggsy share a look, one both confused and a little frightened.

Harry sighs. " _You've grown too fond of him, Merlin. That was exactly what I hoped you wouldn't do."_

" _Yes, and I've grown too fond of you. Look where it's gotten me."_ Merlin replies just as snidely, though with less grace than Harry.

" _I should hope your fondness for me isn't forgotten by our history as friends."_

" _Am I not allowed to have other friends?"_

" _Other friends? Yes. Friends that you tell of this? None."_

" _Eggsy has the right to know, Harry. God, the boy--"_

" _Boy. Exactly. don't forget exactly what he is and exactly where he came from, Merlin."_

Eggsy's skin prickles. Something cold is sliding through his veins, taking over his ability to breathe.

" _I shouldn't have said that."_ Merlin says, shaking his head. _"Eggsy's not a boy, he's a man. A very good man, with a very big heart and more bravery than most can account for._ "

" _You're referring to me now?"_

" _You're hiding, Harry. Just admit that."_

" _...When was the last time he asked you if he could have his own flat?"_

Roxy's eyes widen, and she turns to Eggsy. They're huddled so close together in the alcove of a hall several twists and turns from Merlin's office, and Eggsy looks like he's freezing.

" _That's hardly relevant. Even if he asked, I'd still be making up excuses and twisting terrible truths. Did you really have to blow up the flat on the Gray Avenue? I was quite fond of that one."_

That makes both of Eggsys jump.

" _Whatever it takes."_

" _To keep Eggsy?"_

" _To keep my eye on him."_ Harry corrects.

" _I think you're missing a grand part of this picture, Harry."_

" _And I think you're missing the whole of the painting entirely.. Honestly, Merlin, stop focusing on one flower and scan the entire garden."_

" _He cares for you. More than you know. Lying to him is not going to keep you safe--"_

" _Safe? You think this is about me now?"_ Harry's voice has gone steely, and Roxy takes the glasses from Eggsy's hand in favor of lacing their fingers together. After all, it's hard to watch a video stream when the image is being shaken like an empty bottle of salt.

" _I'm not making this about you. But you can't pretend like you don't see the connections between the two of you."_

" _How do you mean?"_

" _He's like a mirror image of you, Harry. I haven't seen a Kingsman of his caliber since we were first recruited. You and your ridiculous hair, charging headlong into danger without listening to reason. You both had that incredible heart, that strong gut feeling leading you on. Now look at you. You're ignoring it."_

" _Are you telling me I should be a bit more reckless with our future?"_

" _...You're lying to him, Harry. Every day. How is he supposed to feel when he finds out?"_

" _You think he's smart enough to figure it out on his own? Please."_

Eggsy bites back a whine at that, biting his lip so hard it instantly bleeds.

" _Eggsy is reckless, he's insufferable, and he's certainly not what I would call a genius. That's why I'm keeping an eye on him. Especially with his history."_

" _Harry, that's enough!"_ Merlin snaps suddenly, and he hits his desk so hard Roxy's glasses shake. _"You're the one who said he had promise. You're the one who dotes on him and tells everyone else how incredible he is. Will you really lower him down to nothing just to protect yourself from the way you feel?_ "

" _...That's not your place to say, Merlin."_

" _Piss off, Harry. You're my friend, and you yourself told me--"_

" _He's just a boy, Merlin! Do you honestly think I meant any of what I said as more than a ploy?"_ Harry exclaims. _"He's miraculous, yes. He's incredible, yes. A pleb like him lasting at Kingsman this long is almost insane. He's the first of his breed, he'll probably be the last, and I don't want you mistaking my recognition and acknowledgement for favoritism. Nor affection. Eggsy is a responsibility. Nothing more._ "

Eggsy tears his gaze away from the feed, reaching up to pluck his comm from his ear.

" _Harry, you can't--"_

The feed moves out of his range, and Eggsy drops his comm and crushes it.

"Fuckin arsehole."

"Eggsy?" Roxy says, and she reaches up and touches the comm in her own ear. "Eggsy, they're still--"

"I don't wanna hear it. I'm done. I'm fuckin' done wif him."

Her eyes go wide, miraculously so, and she drops his glasses to the floor. The lenses shake, and the feed crackles into silence. "Oh my g... Harry... Eggsy!" She exclaims, turning and running after him. "Eggsy, you have to know the rest!"

"Fuck it. I'm done, Roxy. I can't..." Realization hits him like a brick in the throat, and Eggsy's head tilts back. The ceiling spins over him, bright lights and silver diamond tiles, and his feet feel like the floor has swallowed them. "I can't breathe." He whispers, and before he hits the ground, he thinks of Harry...

And how much he hates him.

**

A few hours later, Eggsy's being called to Arthur's office for something or other.

Roxy feels ill inclined to leave him, especially after the fact that she had been nursing him out of a panic attack turned black-out only a few hours ago. He tells her to go hang out with Merlin or something, that he'll be completely fine.

And he will be. Because Eggsy Unwin is made of something a little stronger than everyone seems to think.

And he's not going to deal with this shit anymore.

He gives the massive doors a light knock.

"Galahad?"

"Yes, it's me, Ha--Arthur." Eggsy replies.

"It's quite alright, Eggsy. Come in." Harry says softly, and Eggsy opens the door and steps in.

In close quarters with Harry, it feels alright. It feels better. Eggsy's chest stops aching. His skin stops tingling and the shake in his hand dies down.

Harry looks up at him and smiles, his mouth a gentle curve, and gestures for Eggsy to come closer. "Come here, then. Let me have a look at you, Galahad."

Eggsy laughs, holding his arms out. Aside from a torn seam in his elbow and a ripped edge around his wrist, his suit is in perfect condition. His hair is a little disheveled still, because honestly, he's not going to sit down in front of a mirror and comb out the kinks when all he wants to do is go home and fall face first into the carpet. There's no blood on him because he's washed his hands thoroughly already--twice--and he's learned that bloodstains are a pain on virgin wool, so he does his best to keep clean.

It was also to make Harry proud.

"Very good." Harry praises. Harry stands up fron his desk, leaning over it to take Eggsy's chin in his hand and turn his face to the side. "Quite a nasty cut there." He says softly.

"It don't hurt." Eggsy shrugs, tugging his chin lightly out of Harry's grasp. "Honestly, it's jus annoyin', havin' this perfect mug all scruffed up."

Harry's expression flattens out, but the tiny twitch in the corner of his mouth is Eggsy's tell. He wants to smile at his boy. "God forbid. Luckily your cheek healed so well from the last time. And... What was it after that?"

"My mouth. Took a knee to the mouth." Eggsy says without pondering, then taps on his plush bottom lip where it had been split open something most foul. "Bloody sod almost knocked me out cold. Did I tell you my tooth wiggled?"

The Harry shakes his head. "No, Eggsy. That you did not."

"Well, I heal very well."

"You have very strong medication."

Eggsy shook his head, leaning onto the front of Harry's desk. "Not so. I once broke a finger and fractured my uh... Hum, wos this one?" He taps his arm.

"Radius."

"Yeah, that. Healed like a charm--didn' even go see a doctah."

Harry frowns at that.

"don't gimme that look. I had to heal well. Wos before I had someone to take care ov... Ov me." Eggsy clears his throat at that, then lifts his hand and scratches against the back of his neck.

Harry's brows knit together at that, pulling the thread of his eyepatch down. "Eggsy?"

"I, uh..." Eggsy tries, and he finds that being in Harry's company has become his Kryptonite. He feels no anger, no pain, no nerves. He remembers--in grave detail--why he was mad, but he can't bring himself to crack that bottle open in Harry's presence. He knows he was going to come in here and give him a good railing, but...

"Eggsy, what's wrong?" Harry asks quietly, and the Eggsy's skin prickles.

He stands ramrod straight, sets his jaw, and dowses the tiny flame in his gut in gasoline.

"Everythin'."

Harry blinks at him.

Eggsy uses his sudden confusion to lean over the desk, placing their faces about a foot apart. "Why'd you pick me to be a Kingsman?"

That makes Harry smile almost timidly, and Eggsy wants to believe it, but it turns something sour in his gut.

"Because I saw something special in you, Eggsy. I saw in you the kind of tenacity, wit, and courage it takes to be a knight." Harry tells him easily, as if he's rehearsed this answer--or given it to other people before. "I told you before, if you were willing to transform, lack of a silver spoon would not be an issue. And you've done just that. More impressive, you've managed to retain that spunk and downright goodness that made you who you were before Kingsman, and that's very important to me. I had hoped that we wouldn't lose our Eggsy over to Galahad simply because the weight of the title shifted you.

"Eggsy, you're a remarkable young lad. You've endless capability, tremendous talent, and your quick thinking and adaptability in the field has made you one of our most versatile agents." Harry's jaw clenches and unclenches before he glances down at the paperwork spread in front of him. "I'm quite proud of you... And my choice in making you a part of this Round Table. You're one of a kind, Eggsy."

All his kind words... All the softness in his voice and the warmth in his gaze, the tenderness of his hands and the very scent of him... It all makes Eggsy want to give in; to give up.

But he has reason to fight.

And he will fucking fight.

"Fanks, Harry. I really appreciate the sentiment." He says, turning so he can sit himself on the edge of Harry's desk, despite the disgruntled look it gets him.

All his time at Kingsman, and Eggsy can't let go of the simple things in like that make him less than a gentleman.

He's about to let go of the one thing that joins his past and his future.

"I mean, I am like the first ov my breed. I'll probably be the last." He says with a shrug.

Harry's mouth twitches, and something in his gaze turns a little colder. "Eggsy?"

"Now, I'm not mistaking your recognition an' acknowledgement ov my skills an' abilities for favoritism." Eggsy continues, his voice rising with the flame crawling from his gut into his chest. His throat feels hot. "I wouldn't even call it affection." The sarcasm he drips into his voice is deep enough to throw a body down, and Harry's gone rigid in his seat.

His right hand is trembling, his new tell that he's nervous. Eggsy remembers it from their reunion, and about a dozen other times since then.

Living with Harry has exposed all of his nerves. And now he's so busy hating himself for not seeing the reality sooner that he can't see past his own anger.

"After all, a pleb like me lasting at Kingsman this long must be some kind ov miracle." Eggsy says, venom lacing into his voice, coloring his eyes as his pupils expand.

"Eggsy--"

"How the  _fuck could you do that to me, Harry?_ How the fuck could you say those things?" Eggsy snaps suddenly, hopping off the desk and slamming his fist down on it.

"How did you--"

"Rox left her glasses on Merlin's desk. don't avoid the question, Harry. How the  _fuck c_ ould you do that to me?"

"How much of that conversation did you hear?" Harry says, and his skin has gone white and clammy, his breath catching up in his chest, making his shoulders heave.

"Enuff." Eggsy retorts. "You really sabotaged my apartments? You wanted me under your radar so bad, you coulda just bugged the new place. What possessed you to keep me trapped under your thumb? Wot, did you just pity the poor kid you tossed up, PTSD and all? Did you feel  _responsible?_ Wos I your liability?"

Harry closes his eye, holds out a hand as if he's trying to steady himself, the room,  _the world. "Eggsy... Please. Tell me the last thing you heard me say." He says quietly._

"I already did. Yous honestly surprised I've lasted this long? Wot, did you recruit me an' throw me into this as some kinda sick game? To see how long a  _chavvy street rat_ could survive in your kingdom?" Eggsy barks, taking a step back and gesturing down to himself. "Look what you've made, Harry. A perfect little Frankenstein monster. An' I'm so pissed at myself for thinkin' any of the shit between us wos real."

"Everything between us has been real, Eggsy. Now, if that's the last part of the conversation you heard, I suggest with the utmost sincerity that you give me a chance to--"

"Fuckin'  _explain?!"_ Tears are stinging his eyes, but he won't let them fall. "You've been draggin' me on, Harry! You've been lyin' to me bout more than one fing, an' you got no idea how much it hurts. _I trusted you!_ "

Harry shakes his head rapidly, climbing out of his chair. "Eggsy, please. Give me a moment--"

"I've given you plenty. I gave you my trust, I was vulnerable for you, I gave you my life; I've blown up the better part of some  _countries_ for you. All I do is give and give, and you've taken everythin' without nothin' in exchange."

When Harry takes his face between his hands, Eggsy starts, and he grabs Harry's wrists and shakes his head.

"Just tell me why, Harry.  _Why?!"_ Eggsy demands, and a thousand nebulae are crashing in his chest, and his blood is freezing like crystallized rain. He's in agony, terrified, enraged, and there's nothing that can make it better.

Harry's mouth crashes against his.

Eggsy stills, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes wide and his every nerve short circuited.For a startled moment, he's not kissing back.

Harry's hands are hot on his cheeks, one sliding down to his throat, the other arm curving around the small of his back . It forces Eggsy to bow against Harry, his mouth falling open in a gasp that Harry instantly fills with his tongue.

Eggsy can't help it. He moans, like a wanton tramp, and fists one hand in the front of Harry's jacket. The other, he slides up the taller man's neck and buries in the fine hairs at the base of his neck, cropped shorter than the bangs swept carefully at the front.

Eggsy's body is on fire. All he can feel is the firm line of Harry's body against his, that iron band locked around his waist, the tongue in his mouth that tastes like caraway mint and Earl Gray. And, of course, his mind snaps around the realization that Harry's kissing him like he's starving.

A sharp tooth catches at his lip, and Eggsy whines, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, threading his fingers into Harry's hair and yanking, tugging their bodies as tightly together as he can manage. A tongue writhes against his, makes his gut boil and his blood rush. He wants to break Harry; he wants Harry to break him.

They're kissing and kissing, and it feels like hours pass, and then Eggsy feels the sparkle of betrayal in his chest, and a fire riots in his blood. It's like lightning, the sudden realization of all the world collapsing around him--Harry being the only thing still intact.

And it's not alright.

He growls in his throat and bites Harry's lip...  _Hard._

A spike of blood touching his tongue makes his cock twitch with incredible interest, and the sound that pours from Harry's mouth into his is even more of a surprise.

Then Eggsy shoves him back, Harry almost falling against his desk before he can regain his composure. It's not enough to hurt him, only dent his pride, and for a moment, Harry looks like he's been slapped across the face with a cactus versus a simple shove.

Eggsy's panting, swallowing air like his lungs are close to bursting, and Harry is staring down at the insignia in the carpet like he just pulled himself out of a deep, startling dream. He looks so unruffled, his jacket smooth, his hair perfect, breaths steady and jaw set. The only sign that this was real for Eggsy at all is the tiny bloom of red cutting a thin slice against the pillow of Harry's bottom lip, glittering crimson just to the right of the center of his mouth.

"...Eggsy." Harry breaths, reaching up to adjust his glasses. It's like a prayer... A plead. Harry, usually so articulate, seems to be at a loss for words.

Eggsy feels like he's just run a marathon. His heart is hammering manically, his skin coated in a cold sweat. His hands are trembling, and he wills himself to be calm as he lifts a hand and runs his fingers through his hair, raking it back from his face.

This is his moment. He will be strong.

"...Forget that ever happened." Eggsy says coldly, his blue eyes like steel, his voice flat like snow.

Harry's whiskey-colored gaze flickers, his eye widening as he looks up into the younger boy's face. There's such a brilliant flame of betrayal there that, for a moment, Eggsy wants to undo what's been done. He wants to break down in Harry's arms and let himself be bound to this agony forever.

But he won't.

He can't.

He would if he could, but Harry's cold, calculated presence makes him remember. This man will never love him. This man will never be able to trust him. Eggsy feels a little broken. The kiss had been a surprise... Under different circumstances, it may have been a welcome one. But after this? After today?

_Fuck that._

Eggsy reaches into the collar of his suit, a slight effort against the tie knotted around his throat. When his fingers find kingsman pendant between his collar bones, he closes his grasp around it and pulls it out of his shirt.

He sees the panic, the agony in Harry's gaze before Harry can fix it--the sheer shock of reality hitting him in the gut. And Eggsy feels the weight of the medal against his palm one last time before he yanks on it, hard. The chain snaps, though whether or not it's the clasp or the links themselves, Eggsy doesn't know. He just knows that this token, this reminder, this  _collar_ from Harry Hart is no longer around his neck.

He tosses it on the floor, into the plush carpet of navy and gold.

Harry's eye follow it, lingers on it like he's in some kind of a trance; like the pendant is the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

It feels awful.

But it feels strong.

"If that'll be all, Arthur." Eggsy says, perfectly composed.

Harry blinks, standing upright. Something about him seems off-kilter. Cracked. Flawed. But he's still too calm for Eggsy's desire, still too regal and conditioned for his taste, even as he drags his gaze away from the pendant and up to the young knight's face.

It's not enough. It can never be enough.

He can't do it.

"Eggsy..." Harry calls suddenly, and he can't take it, he just can't fucking do this anymore.

He takes a short, sharp breath and turns away, taking a step for the door.

A hand clasps his wrist, and the fiery trail it burns through his blood makes Eggsy's head spin. "Eggsy,  _please."_

" _Galahad!"_ Eggsy snaps, the strength of his own voice surprising even him, whipping his head up to give Harry a dark stare. Tears are making his throat swell up, but he won't let them touch his eyes or stain his voice. He will not be made to look weak.

Harry blinks at him, pulling his hand back as if he's been burnt. Eggsy wishes he had been.

He wishes the strength of his affection meant something to Harry. He wishes Harry would be what he wanted, what he needed... He wishes he could have been enough.

The problem, however, isn't that he's not enough. Eggsy knows that now. The problem is that, even if he is enough... Harry won't do anything about it.

The kisses, the gentle touches, the quiet words... They don't exist. They never did.

Eggsy knows that now. And it sets his chest aflame, and he wants to gash his wrists open to bleed out the rage and the pain... And the love. He clears his throat and tugs on his jacket, straightening it. "It's Galahad..."

With that, he is a gentleman again. He is an unruffled, distinguished, trained knight.

He is a Kingsman.

With that, he breaks his bond from Harry Hart.

"If that's all, Arthur, I have somewhere to be." Not completely true. After all, Eggsy didn't really have anywhere to be before the kiss... But now, he knows he has to be anywhere that Harry Hart is not.

"I... O-of course. Galahad."

"Arthur." The name is sour in his mouth, reminding him of a man with a scar behind his ear who sent the man he loved off to die.

Only he didn't die.

He came back to make Eggsy's life twice as difficult, twice as painful...

He came back to make him twice as strong.

Eggsy walks out of Harry's office calmly. He makes it half-way through HQ calmly.

He enters Merlin's office. Calmly.

"Eggsy? I've already debriefed you." Harry says, looking up from a file he's editing diligently. "...Weren't you with Harry?"

He's not calm anymore.

"I know, Merlin." He says, and then his voice cracks and he presses the butt of his palm against his eye until he sees stars. His lip trembles, and Merlin's eyes widen behind the frames of his glasses. " _I know."_

"What are you talking about, lad?"

"I know wot Harry thinks ov me. Roxy's... Her glasses, I..." He reaches out and plucks them off the edge of Merlin's desk. Those steely eyes widen even further. "I heard everythin'."

"You're sure you heard it all--"

"I heard enuff. Enuff to know he thinks I'm a fuckin'  _chav a_ nd a liability and that he doesn't care about me the way I care about him. So, thas it. I'm done. I need out. _"_

Harry stands up, his clipboard clasped tightly in his hand as he comes round the corner of his desk. "Laddie, I don't think you understand. You seem to be missing some important details that--"

"Merlin, jus don't."

"Eggsy, please. Let me explain--"

"I'm  _tired_ ov havin' shit explained to me _! I want out!"_

Merlin looks at him like he's just pulled the pin out of a grenade. "...Eggsy--"

"Not out ov Kingsmen; don't be mad." Eggsy whines, tearing his fingers through his hair. "I jus need to get out ov that house. Tonight. I don't care what kinda strings you hafta pull, I don't care if I have to live here in HQ while you find me a decent flat close to the shop. I jus don't care. I need to get out ov there... I can't..." Eggsy bites his lip, and his eyes are stinging with tears.

It's a little surprising when Merlin is the one to surge forward and wrap a protective arm around Eggsy's shoulders, cupping the back of his head and tucking it under his chin.

Eggsy's never been this close to Merlin before; especially not intimately. (Unless you count the incident with the parachute close and intimate.) His arm curled across Eggsy's shoulder is a welcome weight, the light press of his clip-board in his hand forming a closed circle. He smells like sage and earthy rain--something so clean and reassuring about it... His sweater is soft as hell, and Eggsy's face is pressed into it, and he never wants to move again.

"...I'm sorry, lad. I'm so sorry." Merlin says quietly, petting his fingers through Eggsy's hair. There's no timidness to the touch--it's honest and familiar, as if Merlin has done this a thousand times; shown Eggsy such affection. "I need you to know, I only want what's best for you. You understand that?"

Eggsy sighs, and it's wet and pathetic, before he reaches up and lightly tugs on the fabric of Merlin's sweater. It's another anchor, like the hand at the back of his head, like the empty space between his collar bones where his medal used to hang...

He nods. "Yah. I know, Merlin." With that, he pulls back, and Merlin lets him go easily. "I don't need you to explain anyfin. I trust you. Whatever you did, you wos followin' orders, or you wos just thinkin' ov me."

Merlin nods, a single, curt tug of the chin.

With that, Eggsy lets out another watery sigh. "I jus need ta know...  _Why? Why did he want this?"_

There's too much silence; it's thick and heavy, and Merlin closes his eyes and drops his head forward.

Eggsy presses his mouth to a fine line. "can't tell me that, huh?"

"That is one of the few things I'm not permitted to say."

"...Yah. Heard that one before."

"Eggsy--"

"'M not mad at you, Merlin. You're my Handler; I trust you. You've never steered me wrong, and I won' forget that." Eggsy squares his jaw and pulls his shoulders back. "I know where to place blame when blame needs placin'."

The look on Merlin's face just about kills him, but Merlin says nothing else to that effect. "I'll have the flat on Ivory Street secured and ready for your arrival at eight o'clock sharp, then. It's..."

"Yes?"

"Directly between the tailor's and Harry's home. However, you'll also be closer to Roxy's town house." At that, Merlin offers a tiny smile, as if to say, that makes it a bit better, yeah?

Eggsy sighs, does his best to right himself. "Thank you, Merlin."

"...Your welcome, laddie." Another light touch against the back of Eggsy's neck is all he can take before he's side-stepping around Merlin and strolling out the office and down the hall at a pace that can't be considered calm, but restrained.

He doesn't stop to see Roxy, though he knows she's still here. Instead, he shoots Lancelot a text and rides the shuttle back to Harry's alone.

It takes him a half hour flat to get all of his shit loaded into his private car before he places JB in the passenger seat.

"Be right back, boy." He smiles, and he can almost see the wave of confusion that passes across the little pug's face.

When Eggsy goes back into the flat, his heart stops beating.

He observes the walls, the floors, the ceilings, the paintings, the trinkets... He stands in the hollow archway, where he can see the stairs, the living room, and the kitchen all at once.

It feels raw, like sandpaper in his throat and gritty stone chaffing at his heart.

A tear glides down his cheek, and Eggsy gasps wetly before he reaches up and smacks it away with a rough hand, shaking all over as he reaches up to adjust his tie. He's heavily taken aback by the sudden wetness burning his flesh.

He turns and looks in the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself framed in gold dipped roses and carved paneling. His face it flushed, his mouth red and lips trembling, eyes rimmed in a glow of scarlet that could almost be eyeliner.

Four days ago, he was in front of this mirror in a track suit and cap, smiling at Harry and laughing about the thought of the man drinking a milkshake.

Eggsy sniffles, reaching up to wipe his nose on his sleeve, because right now, he's not a gentleman. He's just a broken boy in an incredibly lovely suit.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to observe the text scrawled across the screen.

**Flat's ready when you are. Eggsy, please, don't do this.**

He chews on his lip, because no, he really doesn't want to be doing this, but Harry's left him no choice.

**Sorry, Lynn... Gotta stay sane. Thanks for the favor.**

**If you ever need anything, I am here, Eggsy. Know that.**

His heartstrings get yanked tight at that, and they feel like cheese slicers or barbed wire pulled thin through the tissue of his bleeding heart.

He sniffles again, glances down the hall to get a tiny glimpse of Mr. Pickles.

**I know that.**

He fishes through his pocket, producing his small ring of keys. He runs his finger along one that looks more skeletal than the others, outdated with time and the brilliant bronze of sunset against the other silver, flat-faced teeth.

It's cold in his hand, and Eggsy squares his jaw and presses his mouth to a flat line as he twists the key ring, sliding the single loop free.

For a moment, he just holds the key in his hand, knowing there are only two of it in the world... Knowing that, for a short, precious time, one of them was his.

Another tear stings his cheek, like a razor in his skin, blood-hot, and he curses under his breath and ducks down, setting the key at his feet in the entryway.

Harry will see it. There's no doubt Harry will see it there, sitting on the polished wood right before an ornate oriental throw rug.

Eggsy clears his throat, straightens himself out, and leaves.

He locks the door, jiggles the handle, and holds his breath.

It hurts to breathe...

When the door swings shut behind him, he knows it will never open for him again.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kindness and patience!!
> 
> I'm not gonna make excuses, but the thing is, on Saturday April 25th, I was in a car accident that severely injured my darling vehicle, Buddy Jones. I was not injured, though, thankfully. And IT WAS NOT MY FAULT. The excuse? That was update night, and by the time I got off work, got in the accident, got home, cried, showered, ate dinner, and felt up to the task of writing? It was too late and I was exhausted. The chapter was already behind schedule due to my sister's and my Avengers marathon, and when putting it on AO3, I have to re-edit everything to keep it all perfect.  
> Thinking about posting fan-art for the stuff I write. Almost like illustrated smut? Lemme know what you think.  
> I'm sorry for the wait, but I promise, by chapter five, it'll be worth it. Next chapter? All angst, and some parkour.  
> I promise.


	4. I'll Hold My Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Roxy..." Eggsy breaths, and the great task it has become is starting to sink in. "I need you to make sure my mum and Daisy know I love 'em. Keep an eye on 'em for me, can ya?"
> 
>  
> 
> "Eggsy, don't--"
> 
>    
> "And Harry?" He adds, letting his head fall back as the heat swells, the sound of the alarms ringing and glass shattering pouring out of his mind, leaving only the quiet feed from his comm. "Take care of JB for me." 
> 
> I'm sorry...
> 
>    
> "Eggsy, no! I--"Harry's voice is cut off by the burst of the first explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could have been way worse. Consider yourselves lucky I hacked a giant piece of angst out because I felt it was just mucking up the plot. Perhaps, at some point, I'll paste it in there and post it. But for now? Enjoy this controlled substance angst.
> 
> Also, accidental Taron Eggerton X Sebastian Stan... What?? That was SO unplanned, I swear. I needed a hot Romanian prince, and Sebby fit the bill.  
> -xo Mo [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)

_Life without Harry Hart is not fun._

The months pass, two or three, Eggsy can barely tell anymore.

He's sent on missions, he comes home, rests up for a bit with JB, sometimes Daisy. He's dispatched, another mission. He spends time at HQ, training, in recovery; lets Merlin make sure his vitals and muscle mass and bones are all exactly as they should be before he's ever sent anywhere else.

He sits in Kingsman meetings, right next to Harry Hart, and he never once looks at him. When he's addressed, he speaks with his jaw set, his head lightly tilted to the side, but he keeps his gaze on his own hands, always steepled or fisted together on the table. When the meetings end, he never lingers. He gets up and away from the dangerous draw of Harry Hart before he gets pulled in again. He will never be that weak and naive again.

Everyone else would think Eggsy were completely fine. If you didn't know him better--the way Roxy and Merlin do--you'd see the broken cracks and the pulled seams. You'd see past his bravado and gallantry.

Eggsy goes barreling through a jungle in Guatemala, singing very loudly--and a bit off-key and breathlessly--the theme to  _Indiana Jones,_ a priceless stone with the atomic power of ten atom bombs tucked into his breast pocket as gunfire and explosions chase him.

He enjoys wearing his false mustache far too much for an incognito trip to Paris which, funnily enough, goes so smoothly once Eggsy manages to get his target drunk. The man is too damn friendly to be a dictator, Eggsy thinks, even as he's listening to the drunkard drone on about his mother's china while he's downloading and deleting cryptic files from his laptop just a few feet away. After that, an amnesia dart seems like too much.

He makes jokes over the comm link while he's defusing bombs.

He brings home souvenirs for Merlin--a little Buddha whose bald head  _looks just like yours, Merlin!--_ and Roxy--a lace parisol that she insists she will never use from Japan, and other such random findings from other missions.

His bravery is unparalleled, as is his recklessness.

He commandeers a bus full of students after shooting the mad driver, driving through downtown Denver while he talks the eldest of them--barely fifteen--how to diffuse the wire cables on the baseboard so he can regain control of the brakes without setting off a bomb. (Some people watch too much television and cinema for Eggsy's taste.) It's probably the most stressful mission Merlin has ever sat in on, watching as, beyond all odds, Eggsy keeps his cool. He even smiles and laughs, keeps telling everyone they're going to be alright, while encouraging the lovely young boy kneeling beside him.

When he gets home from that--a jumpdrive of the worst plots to blow up all of America's schools to ever exist in his hand--Roxy hurls herself at him and hugs him for about an hour while Merlin just gazes at him auspiciously. It feels good.

He gets into a fight with a man twice his size in a secret battle ring in Prague, laughing through blood-stained lips with a broken finger that he doesn't protest about after punch after punch. When he pulls a move he once saw in a female spy comic, he manages to get his thighs around the man's neck, tearing him to the ground and snapping his neck with ease. The cheers that roar in the air around him make him ostentatious, and he throws his bloody fists in the air and punches his own sweaty chest, blond hair a slick mess in his face, muscles quivering wildly. It feels so good.

But it's mostly a show.

Life without Harry Hart is buzzed.

Roxy takes Eggsy to a few bars and clubs that he's pretty sure he would have been tossed out of before his Kingsman days. He gets polished up and grinds on her while they talk about anything but work. He gets flirted up by lots of lovely ladies, even more by men. Lots of them offer him drinks, try to take him by the hip and grind their crotches against the swell of his ass. It's not like  _all of them_ are daft old pigs who mistake him for some high-end rent-boy. Some of them are young, gorgeous, and they smell so, so good. They speak warmly against his neck, tell him things he should want to hear, offer him things he should dare to obtain... Absolutely none of them are what he wants, nor even what he needs. He turns them down, one after another, and hates himself for being unable to take the proverbial bullet to get one particular posh, beautiful, pain-in-the-arse Brit off his mind. He turns them down, and presses his face into Roxy's neck, moaning and whining while the alcohol burns itself to nothing in his blood.

Life without Harry Hart is boring.

His mum is so glad he's out of Harry's house, and she makes a point to visit him more often. Tragically, Daisy is not so pleased.

The first time Michelle brings the tiny Unwin over for a day visit, she bawls and bawls and  _bawls_ her fucking eyes out when Eggsy tells her Harry isn't coming. She just keeps screaming, 'Arry! Arry!' to no avail, searching in desperation for Harry, and it makes Eggsy's heart crumble like a dry cookie. He tries to fill Harry's shoes, but the golden-haired monster refuses to listen to his bare attempts at reading her Dr. Seuss. When her crying turns into coughing, Eggsy gives up and holds his sister in his arms like a doll of glass and silk. He rocks his little sister to sleep and then sits in the living room staring out the window hating everything. After that, Daisy is less excited for her visits, and it falls on Eggsy's shoulders like needle-covered weights.

Life without Harry Hart is unhealthy.

Eggsy goes back to ordering Thai food and chinese take-out, even occasionally ordering himself a pizza that's covered in too much cheese to be considered pizza anymore. He works it all off on assignments and at the HQ gym, but it doesn't mean he's not worse for wear. He doesn't like cooking for himself because he's not going to tell himself,  _'Eggsy, this penne is positively scrumptious. I had no idea you could perfect the art of the al dente noodle'._ No. There's also no one there to cook for him, so Eggsy goes without.

Life without Harry Hart is shit.

Life without Harry Hart is--

_Bang._

"Harry!" Eggsy screams, launching himself forward in bed. He grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, his cotton sheets crinkling under his white-knuckled grasp.

The room is still black with the shadow of night, the dawn too far away to change the sky. His bedside clock-face is glowing faint blue, coloring the sheets like ink, and the temperature of the room is a bitter frost compared to his sweat-slicked skin.

Blue eyes burning, his throat is on fire, and his body is shaking. JB crawls up the bed beside him, nuzzling into his master's thigh.

" _Christ... Fuckin' shit."_ Eggsy wheezes, reaching up to rake his hands through his hair so hard it hurts. He's sniffling, but the tears won't come. The thunderous beat of his heart feels like it could bust his ribs, and he gulps down air in sputtered, broken patterns.

Time passes like ink in water, and Eggsy doesn't know how long he's sat there, knees drawn up to his chest, face crushed against the bone with his hands tangled in his hair.

"Go away...  _Please, go away."_ He whispers.

But nobody hears him.

Eggsy hasn't had a decent night's sleep in months. When he wakes from his night terrors--earlier and darker each time--he can't seem to stop the screaming. He makes his throat raw, hyperventilates for a bit, and then falls back into fitless slumber. That, or he wakes up crying Harry's name, hating himself for his inability to move on, before he burns off his adrenaline in any way he can.

Needless to say, Eggsy's stopped masturbating. It's just not something he wants to do, letting his thoughts wander off to Harry Hart in order to quell the fire in his belly. He'd rather go a little insane over his celibacy than risk taking a wank and accidentally thinking of Harry Hart in the middle of a shower. Lest he slip and crack his head on the tiles.

His back grows incessantly uncomfortable, so he falls over and yanks his sheets and duvet over his head, cowering from the memory of his night terror like a child with their closet door ajar in the darkness.

Surely, under the blankets, one is always safe.

His phone vibrates on the bedside table, and he doesn't have to look at it to know that it's Merlin. When he gathers the strength it takes to move, he pushes the blankets back, reaches over, and picks it up.

**Do you want to talk about it, lad?**

It makes his stomach curl. He thinks about the past few weeks rolling by, the pattern of life he's fallen into.

With a tight chest and a pressed mouth, Eggsy types back a reply.

_**Nothin you don't already know.** _

He sets the phone down on the mattress beside him and scrubs his hands down his face, hating the clammy slick his touch leaves.

He feels rotten and cold, incredibly exposed, like a nerve with the skin peeled back. Without Harry, the night terrors have gotten no worse, but the aftermath has increased infinitely. He can handle the stories; he's seen them played out dozens and dozens of times...

But he hates waking up alone. He hates Harry for showing him what it was like to pull yourself up from the bottom of the ocean and into someone's arms. The alternative is, of course, climbing out of the dark depths of hell into a raging storm of thunder, lightning, and more churning, dark water.

After another few minutes, Merlin replies.

**Mission came in for you today. I can assign it to someone else if you like.**

Eggsy lays back against his pillows, typing out a reply with a rapid set of thumbs. JB starts snoring again beside him. His shoulders and the nape of his neck are damp, leaving a soft imprint in the sheets.

_**Where to?** _

**Cambodia.**

_**Anything a little less green?** _

**Greenland, ironically.**

_**Anywhere a little less white?** _

**Romania.**

_**Fightin vampires then?** _

**A notorious art thief is hosting a gala for his son's birthday tomorrow evening.**

Eggsy snorts.

_**Sounds boring.** _

**His son is an arms dealer who trades on the Russian grid.**

Eggsy perks up at that.

_**Ah, so a big fancy flim flam for his son is probably a cover for a transfer or trade of some sort?** _

**Pick a mission, Galahad. I can't give out classified info on every little thing.**

With a laugh, Eggsy rolls over in his bed and turns on the bedside table lamp. He clicks through a few buttons on his phone before he puts on his glasses, tucking his comm piece into his ear.

_"Yes, Galahad?"_

"Do any of the missions require a partner in crime?"

_"Lancelot is, in fact, the agent that discovered the weapons ring. I'm sure she would appreciate a partner for the bust." The perfect answer, Merlin._

Eggsy smiles. "Gimme that one."

_"Your heart rate is back down to normal. Would you like me to stay on the line with you for a bit longer, Eggsy?" And there's that--the drop of formality and the insertion of compassion._

It makes Eggsy smile. "No, fanks though, Merlin. I'll be fine."

_"If you insist. Be here at oh-eight hundred for a briefing."_

"Oh-eight hundred? On a Saturday?"

_"You're already up."_

"Fanks for remindin' me."

_"See you soon, Galahad."_

Eggsy pulls his glasses off and pops his headphone out. There's a long bit of silence where he wonders if he really wants to go on this mission. At this exact moment, he'd rather slip his gun out from under his pillow and beat himself with it for the shot at a few more hours of sleep.

But that's a horse shit idea.

He climbs out of bed and pats his thigh. "C'mon, JB. Let's go outside." He calls, and the pug comes scuffling along, grunting and puffing wetly behind him.

Eggsy's flat is, without a doubt, a delight. He slides open the back door and there's a tiny yard--no bigger than a flower garden--fenced in with tall white diamond-patterned wood, connected to three other yards on the other side. JB loves it, though, and it means he can go outside and handle his business without Eggsy's supervision.

Ivory Street is something like a gated community without the gates.

Each house is unique in color or detailing, but they all look about the same. Eggsy's flat in question is a strawberry kind of color with soft cream shutters and paneling and a strikingly mint green door. It matches the paint job on the neighbor's house.

Someone down the way has a house the color of sunflowers, and another the shade of red at dawn. Eggsy loves the bright splashes of the neighborhood, constantly broken up by houses painted in subtle cream, coffee, eggshell, and even soft gray.

He wonders if Merlin put him in a house the pink of tea roses to tell him something.

When JB's done and had his fun, Eggsy lets him in and strips on his way to the bathroom. Being a single floor flat, everything is fairly accessible for Eggsy. It makes him feel like if he had a serious leg injury in the field, he'd be able to move about in a wheelchair fairly well.

He wonders if Merlin planned that as well.

His shower is short lived, his movement perfunctory and quick. After all, dillying in the shower is dangerous for masturbatory thoughts and wrinkly skin.

When Eggsy hops out of the steamy bathroom, he wraps a towel around his waist and strolls leisurely to his bedroom, JB in tow. He picks out a suit for the day, a navy blue pinstripe thing with double-breasted brass buttons and rose-stamped cuff-links. He wraps a red-striped gold tie around his throat and ties it in the mirror, taking his lips between his teeth as he wraps the material into a Windsor knot.

He can practically hear Harry scolding him.  _If you have to concentrate that hard to tie a tie, choose a simpler knot. No, no--here. Let me._

His gut turns, and Eggsy shakes out his nerves before he returns to the bathroom to comb and style his hair and spritz himself with a splash of his new favorite cologne.

It's a little sweeter than he'd like, but it beats using the bottle of unjustifiably expensive  _Chanel_ that Harry bought him. That seven ounce car payment sits in his bedside table drawer, and Eggsy would rather smell a little too much like a flower than smell even slightly like Harry Hart. (Eggsy found it once; even sprayed a few of his nightshirts with a spritz or two. The label was long gone, but the black bottle was probably worth a few grand, if Harry's taste spoke for anything.)

"Lookin' good, Galahad." Eggsy says playfully to the mirror, tucking a red pocket square into his breast before slipping his glasses in beside it. "Gonna leave the doggy door unlocked for ya, JB. Da should be home in a day or two, kay?"

_'Boof.'_

"That's my boy. If it looks like I'm gonna be gone for longer 'n that, I'll tell Merlin to send for you." Eggsy teases, curling his fingers under the pug's jaw and giving him a good scratch.

In his time as a Kingsman, Eggsy was quite efficient at tying up a mission with ease of time. Only twice did he have to have JB collected from his home and taken into HQ for care while he was following a mission through to the end. Merlin, bless his heart, made it sound like caring for JB was a huge deal. That meant, of course, that he was delighted by it. After all, a man with grave hassle thrust upon him wouldn't let said hassle sit on his bare feet in a tech room whilst feeding him biscuits and small bones.

With that, Eggsy tucked his garment bag, carrying his best suit, over his arm and headed for the door, slipping his feet a little haphazardly into his Oxfords without untying them. He could do it in the car. Some things never changed.

"Be good!" He calls over his shoulder, and JB is already lying down on the round rug in the entryway when Eggsy shuts the door and locks it behind him.

The sun is shining, the birds and chirping, and Eggsy's going to Romania--a new place. With Roxy--his best friend. He grins. Sometimes, life went well.

**

Sometimes, life went horribly, horribly wrong.

After all, nobody could know that in about thirty hours Eggsy would be saying his final words through cracked glasses and a fuzzy comm link.

Currently, they were all--meaning Eggsy, Roxy, Merlin, and Harry Hart--gathered at the Round Table.

Eggsy would never get over the fact that the round table was not, in fact, round. The thrums his fingers against the wood, glasses perched on his nose as he observes the plans Merlin had created for them.

"This is Vladmir Drakov's castle. His son, Sebastian, will be arriving via helicopter pad. By this time, the party will have been going on for about an hour. Plenty of time for a convoy to travel through this mountain pass." As he says it, Merlin's fingers tap against his--much more advanced--tablet, highlighting the route and the castle on it. "As it were, this is exactly the path they'll be taking. Lancelot has been able to confirm each transfer to the dot. We're striking at the party for the simple fact that it is actually Sebastian's birthday, so he will more than likely be out of sorts in favor of actually enjoying himself."

"So we're hopin' he gets schnockered before we make a move for the vaults?" Eggsy asks, clicking his glasses. Over his left lens, a feed of the castle's blue-prints pops up, and he follows the stairwells down to the basement. A long tunnel connects from the huge vault out to a hidden dirt road that treks down from the highway pass.

"That is the plan." Merlin grins. "Of course, it will be a bit difficult, but the plan is to cave in the entire lower half of the vaults, completely locking down and securing the levels we need while, at the same time, closing off the gateway of the mountain pass. While you're there, before the explosives are detonated, Lancelot will take this disk and use it to drag all of the Drakov's security files from their computer hard-drive before scrambling their history completely."

Eggsy scratches his cheek, feeling a tiny prickle of stubble he missed shaving that morning. "Seems a little too easy, innit?"

Roxy rolls her eyes. "That's the point. You had me planning the whole thing. Of course it'll go smoothly."

Merlin and Eggsy share a smile at that. "That's right." Harry says. "After a grace period of time, give or take twenty-four hours, an extraction team will come to dig through the castle's floor and into the vaults. Art and arms secured."

Eggsy tilts his head forward. "What about the Drakovs?"

Harry swipes his finger across a plate on the table, bringing up a long list of charges beside pictures of the Drakovs' faces. He doesn't pay them much mind. "They'll be handled, easily enough. They've already popped up on the President's radar. They're also wanted by the Bulgarian family, Krum. If we're lucky, they'll either be detained by the President and local Romanian law, or the Krums will have at them."

"Crumbs?" Eggsy all but squeaks.

Roxy presses her hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh. Merlin tips his head back to the ceiling and nibbles on his lip.

Harry, on the other hand, closes his eyes and tucks his chin down. "No, Galahad."

It's not the same scolding as Eggsy's used to, but it still triggers a tingle at the top of his spine, reminding him of a time in dressing room three, tying his first pair of Oxfords, seeing Harry smile over at him... Before he stood up and gave his best impersonation of a German aristocrat's formal greeting, that is.

Roxy taps Eggsy's arm, drawing his cerulean gaze her way, glowing behind his black frames. "Katarina Krum is one of the strongest law enforcers on the Eurasian circuit. After losing her husband to an arms deal gone wrong, she dedicated herself to crushing the shadow market. Her sons and daughter run syndicate rings that funnel out weaponry and less than civil characters, though no one has seen them for years. It's something of privatized vigilantism, but nobody questions Katarina. She's something like... What do the Americans call it? Batman."

"Wow. Thas impressive." Eggsy replies. "So, anything else then? We get in, set up some explosives, then get out an' let the feds take our big fish out?"

"This mission will require a little more tact than that, Eggsy." Merlin says sternly. "This is a very formal gala for a very, very wealthy family. You will have to be tenfold elegance before slipping away discreetly and swiftly."

Eggsy sits forward, steepling his fingers. He looks to be deep in thought for a long time. "...Christ. So it's a Cinderella mission."

"Of sorts." Roxy says playfully. "But, Eggsy, you can do it. And besides, no one will think you look out of sorts if you're standing next to me."

"A clever distraction." The slate-eyed man laughs quietly.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Nothing less conspicuous than a princess and a pauper."

Harry pinches his arm.

"Well then." Harry says, standing at his seat. "Do you both feel comfortable for the coming events of the next forty hours?"

Eggsy lets out a slow breath through his mouth, closing his eyes. "Yeah. Got nothin' betta ta do."

With that, he tilts his chin up and looks directly at Harry. It feels like a challenge, but really, Eggsy knows he'll win. It's never a contest.

Harry looks down, says something else to Merlin, and then addresses Lancelot on another tidbit of briefing.

Of course Harry looked down.

He always looks away first.

Eggsy chews the inside of his lip and nods as if he's listening. Really, he's just waiting to get out; get away. Sometimes he thinks, maybe, he should get out of Kingsman... Get away from Harry Hart.

But this is his world.

It just sucks that Harry Hart is the core of his planet, the sun of his system, the very center of it all.

It sucks so bad.

**

Eggsy hangs his suit bag over his arm, strolling down the long hallway to the elevator platform. He's glad Merlin will be dropping them off and picking them up at the extraction. He much prefers Merlin to Hector, though it's nothing personal. Hector is too uptight, too silent, and too Scottish for Eggsy's taste. And when he does get to talking, it's usually long, arduous stories about his life.

Merlin's secrecy is one of Eggsy's favorite things about him; that he's one of the rare people that gets a peek into the cold, calculated labyrinth of Merlin's mind.

He loves Merlin a bit more than he should.

"Eggsy, wait up." Roxy calls, and he steps and turns to see her trotting up to him with a velvet box as long as a shoe box and as thin as a phone book in one arm, a long garment bag over the other. "Got your nice suit then?"

"Yeah, figured it was a party, so... Wait, wos in there?" He tilts his head down to the bag. "Satin trackies?"

"It  _is_ a Gala, Eggsy." Roxy says, draping the dress bag over her arm with the velvet-cased box tucked against her chest. "We have to look the part."

"Ah. Look the part then."

"It's just a dress, Eggsy. Don't have a cow."

"You gonna be wearin' pants under it though, right?"

"A skin suit, if you must know."

"Thas sexy." Eggsy says, nudging her with his elbow.

She shoves him back. "You prat."

Running his eyes over her, Eggsy's gaze gets trapped on the box against her chest. The smooth material is the color of burgundy, a golden latch on the front bound by a rose-carved lip. "So... Wos that then?"

"Oh, uhm..." The honey-eyed girl laughs, fussing with the long thing. "It's from Merlin. He said it would go with the dress." The tiny tint of pink that colors her cheeks makes Roxy look splendidly lovely, and Eggsy's tummy turns over and he grins wider.

"Well... We  _do_ have to look the part, love." With that, he reaches out and taps the button of her nose.

"Stop that." She huffs, swatting his hand away.

Eggsy titters and pats the soft velvet box. "I'm know you'll look aces, Rox." They start to walk down the hallway again, muttering absently to one another about going over the plans again on the flight and how they'll have to scan the blue-prints again for good measure.

They're almost to the lift by the time he shows up.

"Galahad." Harry calls, and Eggsy freezes.

Roxy glances up at him under her lashes, her finger still reaching out for the green button among the paneled wood. "Going to be alright?"

His heart presses up against his ribs, and he bites his lips and takes a deep breath through his nose. He thinks about holding it, but that would be too easy.

"Yah... Yah, take this. I'll catch up." He drapes his garment bag over Roxy's waiting arm as the lift doors open, and she climbs into the elevator and holds her thumb down on a scanner. The doors shut, and the mechanical whir of the box being lifted can be heard through the wood and concrete.

He would have liked to just climb in beside Roxy, turn around, and flip Harry off as the lift doors closed. But that would have been incredibly ungentlemanly. He still really wants to hold his breath, if anything, to steady himself. Instead, he turns on his heel and looks at Harry, still a few yards behind him.

"Yes, Arthur?" He says calmly, politely.

When they make eye contact, it burns something in Eggsy's blood, and he feels shakier than he has in weeks.

Harry clears his throat, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Be safe, yes?" Harry says softly, and his brows furrow and something about his posture falls.

Eggsy blinks, his mouth opening with no words coming out.

"For JB's sake. The little piglet surely couldn't do without his da; and you've been reckless on previous missions." Harry continues. "This one is going to be quite dangerous."

Eggsy scoffs, dropping his gaze to his feet as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his navy suit. "I'm sure I can handle it, fanks." He slipped, only slightly, but it was noticeable for Harry, apparently, because he almost smiles.

"Of course you can. You've handled worse."

Yes, much worse.

Eggsy presses his lips and shrugs. "That's me; the lionheart. And you, Harry." He gives a half-hearted head nod in Harry's direction, making Harry's smile widen a touch.

"Yes, we do strike quite the pair, don't we?"

Harry's words make Eggsy's throat feel warm and tight, and he closes his eyes and tips his head forward, as if he's looking at his shoes. "Yah... 'S nice."

"And Galahad?"

"Yes?" He lifts his head instantly.

"A gentleman doesn't perch with their hands in their pockets." Harry chides.

Eggsy's cheeks flush, and he snickers, tugging his hands free before folding them behind his back gracefully. "Of course, Arthur." He nods.

There's a long, tender silence between them, and Eggsy realizes it's the longest conversation they've had in months, aside from mandatory Kingsman briefings and debriefings.

"Well... Enjoy the party." Harry says, and then he's turning on his heel with a smooth pivoting motion. "Goodbye, Galahad."

"Bye!" Eggsy calls a little too sharply, and he feels iron knots wielding themselves hot in his gut. "...Arthur."

He's left in the long hallway alone.

"You have a present, you know." Roxy says when he climbs aboard the plane, and he gives her an inquisitive look.

"Not jewelry from Merlin, is it?" He teases, and in the cockpit, he can see Merlin stiffen before he goes to flick a few switches and turn some knobs.

Honestly, Eggsy thinks half of the buttons do nothing.

"No, sit down." The honey-eyed girl chides, falling into a seat and extending a long black box to him. "It's from Harry."

Eggsy's throat closes up, and he's glad he's mastered his expressions, because he remains a picture of indifference while inside he's screaming and tugging his hair out. "You mean Arthur."

She rolls her eyes.

He takes the box from her and pops the lid off, catching a spark on his tongue as he does so.

Inside, there's a long, perfect satin tie the color of silver starlight, blue sparks the same shade as Eggsy's eyes smattering it in accents of color. At the bottom of the box, two cuff-links pressed into round sparks--like the blue designs on the tie--sit in tiny velvet cushion holes, glittering sterling silver like the tie. A tiny velvet pouch lies beneath them, as if for easy transport.

Eggsy chews his lip, then turns the lid over to find the note tucked gracefully between the suede stitching. The parchment is soft, faded gold, and the ink is a startling black contrast to the white-stained roses watermarked into the background.

_If I'm right, you packed the black wool single breast. Wear it with a black undershirt. These will match the suit well. --H_

Eggsy presses his lips to a fine line, running his fingers over the tie. The sparks of chaotic periwinkle and midnight are embroidered onto the satin, and they feel sweetly raised against his fingertips. He doesn't have to be a genius to guess Harry probably spent way more on this custom tie than necessary, and he's willing to bet that the cuff-links are custom as well.

"...I don't know what to think with that man." Eggsy huffs, capping the box and tossing it onto an empty seat before he falls down into one in front of Roxy.

She shrugs. "It's not safe to think. You can't be running around making assumptions forever. At some point, you'll make one wrong."

"That don't make sense."

"Make one false move, and the entire board spins. Then, every move after that is false." Roxy says. "My father used to tell me that."

"Wos he talkin' bout posh blokes leadin' you on an' then stompin' on ya?" Eggsy says dryly.

Those brunette brows arch high on Roxy's smooth brow, and she purses her lips, looking incredibly unamused. "Chess, actually."

"Pipe down, you two. Unless I hear chatter about the Drakov's or your aliases going on back there, I won't be keeping any promises previously made about little to no turbulence." Merlin tosses over his shoulder. "We're prepared for lift-off."

A voice answers him over the radio, a bit static and heavily accented. Eggsy guesses it's Hector.

"Right, right, Lynn. Well then, Lance. Shall we?" Eggsy asks, and he runs his hand over the coffee table between them, their glasses reading the holographic images now spilled across it. Eggsy reaches out and taps the 3D impression of the blue-prints, raising it up so they can see the levels stacked on top of one another.

"We shall."

**

The party is oh so very extravagant.

Eggsy thinks it may very well outdo Valentine's end-of-the-world-safe-house-in-the-mountains party.

For one, the castle is spectacular--huge in stature and immaculate in class. Candles and tall oil lamps line the long golden gravel drive, and every window is illuminated against the backdrop of falling evening. Sleek black cars and glowing white limos slide in front of the long, curved stairway of white marble.

The duo climb out of their glittering car and, arms linked, make their way up the stairs to the glowing doorway where two men are taking invitations.

They look like hired thugs in suits, and Roxy squeezes Eggsy's forearm, tugging on his sleeve.

 _"You're doing fine, Galahad. Now, release Lancelot's arm and approach the ticket reception."_ Merlin's voice says smoothly over the comms, and Eggsy lets out a long breath. He has never, ever, ever been to an engagement like this. Aside from the hoax with Valentine--which fell apart when le douche, piss-ant Charlie showed up--Eggsy's missions were all tactical advancement and secret prowling tasks. He was a force of nature, not a prince. He was a loaded gun, not a flute of champagne.

 _"Galahad?"_ Harry's voice comes gently through the comm, and Eggsy stiffens at the sound of it. _"You're going to do splendidly."_

It's the push he needs.

He's a  _Kingsman._

He can do anything.

He hands the door greeter--bouncer, footman, whatever the hell he is--their invitation, gold filigree and scrawling blue font set above a red seal of a curling dragon and crown.

"Ah, Zorrin Anders. Lady Yvaine. Thank you for coming." The posh-yet-stacked man says in a sand-papered accent, and Eggsy nods his head, sweeping himself and Roxy forward into the party through the huge front doors. He holds his jaw squared and manages to look indifferent and incredibly amused at the same time.

_"Well done, lad."_

It takes a grand effort for Eggsy to keep his teeth together, because when they enter the grand castle, following the line of people to the ballroom, his jaw wants to hit the floor.

The chandeliers are encrusted with gold, dripping thousands of crystal tear drops from high ceilings painted over with angels. The floors are varnished wood, heavy red drapes that look more expensive than velvet falling from windows as tall as five or six men show an astounding view of the rolling mountains below the castle's western wall--which practically hangs off a cliff.

Tall vases that more than likely cost small fortunes are filled with white jasmine, marjoram, dahlias, violet irises, and an array of glamorous roses and lilies. Paintings hang on empty spaces of the stone walls, candles in glittering gold sconces light up flutes of champagne and sequins on breasts.

In the far back, on a small stage of glimmering stone, an orchestra is seated, consisting of two violins, a cello, a bass, three flutes, one rather large set of brass-detailed drums, an oboe--of all things--and a beautiful woman singing operatically in a dress that looks like it stumbled off the stage of a dark swan play.

Everyone at the party is beautiful. The women are dressed in ball gowns and silk slips and layers of tulle, the men wearing heavy coats and fine, tailored tuxedos with tails and silver breasts, ties probably worth a month's supply of food wrapped about their necks like collars. Circlets that could power small militias cling to delicate wrists.

Roxy sidles into the crowd as if she were born in a Romanian palace. Her gown is strapless, the heart cut of the bodice drawing gazes to her golden shoulders and collar bones, where a very elegant, tasteful, expensive string of nearly iridescent diamonds hangs about her throat, one very large one dripping between her collar bones like a star. They glitter like shooting stars, and despite all his desire to make a comment on whether or not the necklace was a gift for the mission or for Roxy herself, he just admires the way they look locked around her throat.

It also strikes a nice contrast to her gown. The material is the deepest shade of wintery blue, cutting open at her hips to fall around her like waves, a deep black tulle spilling through the open curtain. Her wrists are hugged with shimmering black cuffs of lace, her fingers wrapped in flowers and snowflakes.

She looks like some kind of moon goddess, her hair falling in waves about her shoulders, a glittering pin pulling one side back. And Eggsy's always loved seeing Roxy do her own make-up. The incredible slash of black above her eyes gives off the impression of wings, and the soft cherry blossom of her lips makes her look soft and deadly.

It's very accurate.

Since she's not wearing her glasses--too conspicuous--all she has is the tiny comm in her ear, and so there's nothing to distract from the beauty of her face. Were he not currently hopelessly, unrequitedly in love with another, he'd dip Roxy in the middle of the dance floor and kiss her senseless.

Eggsy reaches up and fusses with his tie, the weight of it a comfortable reminder. He feels he doesn't look nearly immaculate enough to be standing beside Roxy. In his slick black tuxedo, black dress shirt, and sparkling silver tie, he feels very, very lacking. Some of the men at the party are wearing various military pins on their breasts, or they have bushels of flowers in the breast pockets like some kind of riched-up school dance.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, wrapping his arm around Roxy's slender waist. "Well done, Rox. You're the loveliest girl in the room." Eggsy says smoothly, pressing his lips to her hair as he hugs her closer.

"And you're definitely the most handsome." She says back playfully, glancing around the large ballroom.

It's quite true. Many of the men are either too old or too bear-ish to be nearly as attractive as Eggsy, but they were probably handsome in their prime. The men that look closer to Eggsy's age are too roughened or too soft, garish peacocks with lovely girls on their arms that they more than likely bribed or bought for the evening.

It makes Eggsy snicker. "Flattery, my lady."

 _"Alright, you two. Enjoy the party, but be cautious and gather information quickly. You'll have one hour before Sebastian arrives, and you'll have to make your exit through those doors."_ As Merlin says that, Eggsy's glasses light up in the corner, and he tilts his head casually to see the long hallway on the southern wall. His lens scans through the walls, seeing down a few narrow corridors before they land on a small flight of about twenty stairs... Then there's the door.

"Assuming that's where the elevator is then." Eggsy says, and he taps a young waiter on the shoulder.

He looks a bit out of place, the softness of his features and the innocence in his bright green eyes reminding Eggsy a bit of himself. His suit is a terribly large white thing, probably meant for a man and not a boy barely coming of age. The tie around his throat is a little skewed.

Eggsy reaches out and straightens it by pinching both sides of the bow. "Your name, son?" He says poshly, and he can hear Harry sigh out a smile over the headpiece.

"Uhm, Gregor, sir." The boy says, and a hot flush colors his throat.

Eggsy likes that. It makes his smile broaden. "Gregor, this is my Lady Yvaine. She is very parched from our trip and would like a glass of champagne. I myself wouldn't mind a martini; vodka, not gin. Obviously. Stirred for ten seconds."

 _"While glancing at an unopened bottle of Vermouth?"_ Harry chimes in, and Eggsy actually laughs out of place. Gregor gapes at him as if he feels he's been teased.

"Yes. Ten seconds should to it. No olives, please." At that, Eggsy pulls a rather large bill from his back pocket and tucks it into the boy's coat. "See to it my Lady and I are not disturbed by anyone but you, as far as drinks go. Can you do that, lad?"

"Y-yes, sir! I mean, of course, my lord. Right away." With that, little freckle-faced Gregor toddles off, coat tails flying as he goes.

"Merlin, how dare you tell Harry of my sly gentlemanly one-liner."

_"I thought he'd enjoy it." Merlin replies._

_"I rather did, actually."_

"Good, cause that line was spoken with you in mind." Eggsy shoots back smoothly, and the elegant woman beside him laughs a little breathlessly. A few eyes are drawn to them.

"That was mighty generous of you, Zorrin." Roxy says softly, brushing her fingers against the black pocket square on Eggsy's breast.

He shrugs. "I'm a mighty generous fellow, my dear. Shall we?"

About an hour later, Sebastian shows up, and Eggsy feels the night spark to life.

Previously, he had been leaning against a glittering granite pillar, Roxy beside him, head tilted up to admire a massive painting hanging on the wall.

Gregor had come and gone to refill their drinks twice, though Roxy assured Eggsy pouring a few glasses of champagne into a glowing white peony vase wouldn't kill them. After that, they made small talk with a few lords and ladies, a general and a countess, and other such persons attending the party.

Harry's praise in Eggsy's ear made his skin tingle, and he found that being a posh bloke wasn't entirely impossible. He just had to hold his head up, slosh his drink about a bit, and smile like he was better than everyone else.

Surprisingly, no one took offense to it. Probably because the rich prats were all doing the same thing as he was.

He tapped his watch, dully noting that the young Drakov should have been here twenty minutes prior. "Who frows a party on a Sunday anyhow?"

"It's Sebastian's birthday."

"They couldn't frow it on a Friday? Or a Sat?"

"He's very spoiled, Eggsy. His birthday is his birthday, and he will have his party when he wants to have his party." Roxy replies, running her elegant fingers across her diamond necklace as if in deep thought.

Eggsy swishes his bourbon around in the tumbler. "Still stupid." He mutters, then takes a drink.

 _"Incoming, kids. Sebastian's helicopter has just landed on the roof. Vladmir is descending the stairs to make an announcement about his son's arrival."_ Merlin says suddenly, and they both prick up instantly at that.

When Vladmir appears at the top of a glimmering red staircase on the northern wall, Eggsy feels a hiccup of intimidation run through him.

The man is a tower, practically seven feet tall, and he's got the finest silver at his temples, the rest of his black mane slicked back and shining like an oil spill. His suit is blood red and double-breasted, and he positively radiates danger, gray eyes like daggers and mouth line a lion's smile.

He has a long, thick pelt hanging off one shoulder, and the massive head and long, dripping tail indicate that it is some large species of wolf. Its eyes have been replaced with rubies, and the paws replaced with gold clasps.

"That is sick." Eggsy mutters, giving an absent point to the picture as Roxy steps into his side.

"Thank you all, ladies and gentleman, family and friends, for coming to my son, Sebastian's, thirty-second birthday." Drakov says smoothly, and the crowd claps slowly before he continues.

"The window, Merlin?" Roxy says quietly.

_"Four hours, at this current estimate. Currently, Sebastian has not had enough alcohol to be at the state of dim-witted we'd like him to be in. As for his father, we're going to arrange a phone call for him that he will simply have to take."_

"Then we make our move?"

_"My current estimate would be around one a.m. By two a.m., the plan should have gone off without a hitch, and extraction will be pending for two-thirty."_

Eggsy groans. "This is gonna be a long night."

"And without further ado, my darling boy, Sebastian!" The crowd gets a little uproarious, and a few girls exclaim loudly as the elder Drakov holds his arm out and a spotlight shines on an empty space.

Then the younger Drakov strolls out, and it's so much to take in.

When Sebastian appears at the top of the stairs, Eggsy's a little smacked back. Well, more like blown back. He's very flabbergasted.

"Bloody hell..." He mutters, and Roxy tucks her manicured nail under his jaw and clicks it shut.

"Wishing this was a honeypot, Eggsy?" Harry teases, and Eggsy huffs and takes a long drink.

"Wouldn't have minded." He retorts.

"Don't forget he's an arms dealer and we're here to steal from him and get him arrested. He's incredibly dangerous."

"Sweetheart, our job requires a certain affinitive for danger." Eggsy replies, and he lets his eyes rake over the Romanian lord without shame.

Sebastian is incredibly beautiful, with a strong jaw and soft gray eyes, thick, dark hair swept to the side as if by fussing fingers. His mouth is sin itself, and he's tall and lean like some kind of jungle cat. He's in a matte black tux with an elegant silver bowtie, a flourishing rose pinned to his breast and a flute of champagne in one elegant hand.

He smirks, and the sight of it makes Eggsy's cheeks flush. "Sonovabitch, he's cute. He doesn't look thirty-two."

 _"Galahad, control yourself, please."_ Merlin grumbles. _"Is this your way of coming out of the closet?"_

Roxy snickers.

 _"Merlin, enough."_ Harry says, and his voice sounds a little too strained for playful comfort.

Eggsy downs the rest of his bourbon. "No, but I can be flexible, Lynn." He says in a low voice, tipping his head back. " _Oh, I_ can be flexible. Used to be a gymnast, remember??" Eggsy says and Roxy pinches his arm.

"Don't tease."

"Who am I teasin'?" He shoots back.

"Thanks, da, for that lovely introduction." Sebastian says, voice like thunder wrapped in silk, laughing as he claps his father on the shoulder. He lifts his flute. "Happy birthday to me."

The crowd claps, and Eggsy shakes his head.

When Sebastian's eyes scan the crowd, they land on Eggsy, he's sure of it. And the Romanian devil winks at him before pressing his lips to the rim of his flute.

"Holy  _Christ,_ did you see that?" Eggsy balks, and Roxy laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

"He was looking at me. Don't be so egotistical." She retorts sharply, but when she glances back, she can definitely tell those stormy-gray eyes aren't on her face.

"Lookin' at you, huh?" Eggsy breaths, and Sebastian is still looking at him, a dangerous smile playing on his plush lips. Oh, no. There is  _no way_ he's looking at anything but Eggsy.

Harry says something in his ear, but Eggsy ignores it.

He can make this work.

 _"No, you two are not considering this."_ Merlin gasps.

"Oh...  _Oh."_ Roxy breaths, and she presses a kiss to Eggsy's throat. Her lips curl into a smile against his skin _. "Galahad, I think we can make this work."_

At her sudden display of affection, Sebastian's lids droop, and a bit of a dangerous smile plays on his mouth as he tips his head back and very obviously pretends to listen to his father.

Yes. Yes, they can.

**

The plan is launched into action tenfold, and is cut by about half the time due to the Romanian lord's very open attraction to Eggsy.

It's all a little confusing, honestly, as Eggsy spins Roxy across the dancefloor, still trying to keep his eyes on Sebastian.

The jungle cat has resorted to lounging across a red velvet chaise with a glass of very dark alcohol, following Eggsy's every move without modesty or discretion.

"Why didn't we pick up this information before? Why didn't we know he was gay?" Roxy says absently, arching her neck as the violins swoon and Eggsy bows her backwards.

 _"He's not gay. Openly bisexual, actually."_ Harry's voice says, and it's a little tense, mildly strained and roughened.

Eggsy's brows furrow. "You knew?"

_"It was in the file."_

"Such information should have been handed to Lancelot and myself, so as to further the mission."

_"I didn't think throwing you two at the lord like expensive whores was going to benefit the mission, thank you, Galahad."_

Merlin says something quietly, tamping down Harry's attitude.

Eggsy gnashes his teeth. What the fuck is Harry's problem? It's not like he's the man's property or something. It's not like he's even his understudy anymore! He has no right to be snapping at Eggsy in such a way! Like such a prick!... Then Eggsy remembers, not only is being a prick something Harry is obscenely good at--he's his boss. He can snap at him for his choice of toothpaste and the boy couldn't argue without risking his spot as Galahad.

"We need to move. Now." Eggsy says suddenly, watching Sebastian down the last of his glass.

"The plan?"

"Stay close to me and trust me."

"I like that plan." Roxy says playfully, and when Eggsy spins her in, she dips her head to the side so he can kiss her neck. He holds Sebastian's gaze while he does it, wrapping her in his arms and swiping his tongue across his lips. An invitation.

The gray-eyed devil smirks, sets his glass down, and stands. When his security details rise with him, he holds up his hand and says something to them quickly before he's trouncing down the stairs and into the fray of dancing bodies.

"I say we try the ol' aerial able-ism, eh?"

"Have you been working out enough to trust that?" The honey-eyed girl teases, even as she laces her fingers together at the base of his neck and lets the upbeat violin tempo thrum through her skin.

"Ready, Rox?"

"Don't drop me."

Eggsy unfurls her, spinning her out before pulling her in. He scoops her into his arms and then flips her elegantly onto his shoulders. The spin is cut short when Roxy falls backwards, Eggsy moving to catch her so swiftly that her hair sweeps the floor before she's on her feet and twisting out.

Eggsy holds her wrist--

Sebastian Drakov catches the other.

A small group around them applauds their bravado, and Eggsy laughs a little breathlessly at how easy the move was compared to previous attempts. His throat feels flushed at the sudden proximity of the glamorous older man. He's even prettier up close, and he smells like the breaking clouds at a thunderstorm.

"That was impressive." Sebastian says sweetly, his voice gentle as he lifts Roxy's hand and kisses her lace-clad knuckles. "My Lady."

"Your grace." She says, feigning modesty, and oh, the mighty Lancelot is so good at pretending to be a meek, beautiful girl.

"And..." Those storm-gray eyes rake over Eggsy's frame, and he feels something akin to shyness and boldness blended together bleed through his skin.

"Zorrin Anders. It's a pleasure, your lordship." Eggsy says, bowing low at his waist. When he rises, Sebastian holds his hand out for him.

_"You've got to be fu--"_

_"Easy, Arthur."_

"Please." The beauty says, and when Eggsy lets him take his hand, Sebastian honest to god dips forward and presses his lips to Eggsy's knuckles. "Just Sebastian. Formalities wear my nerves thin.." Sebastian grins a little too brightly. "We match."

Eggsy glances down at his own silvery tie and black tuxedo. Yes, they do have a certain theme riding between them. It makes Harry groan and mutter something about 'ponce' over the comm.

Eggsy laughs softly and shakes his head, an errant bang falling over his forehead. "Ah, what a charming coincidence."

"Coincidence? Or fate?" The gray-eyed man asks, and he drops Eggsy's hand in favor of reaching out to touch Roxy's lovely necklace. "A fabulous gift. From you?"

"Of course. This is my Lady fiance, Yvaine."

"Fiance? She wears no ring."

 _"You weren't engaged, you twat."_ Merlin bites, and Eggsy can practically hear Harry smacking himself in the head.

"Well... It's quite hard to find something in creation beautiful enough for my girl." With that, Eggsy brushes his knuckles against Roxy's cheek, and she leans into the touch. That, Eggsy can tell, isn't acting, and he loves it. "I'm having something made special."

"Ah. Shame." Sebastian sighs, looking Eggsy up and down again. "That we couldn't see it tonight."

"Perhaps another time?" Eggsy says, tipping his head forward.

That makes Sebastian smile wide, and pats Eggsy on the shoulder. His fingers are warm through the wool. "You know something, Zorrin... I think you were sent to me as a gift. And..." He grins a little mischievously. "It is my birthday." His voice is softer, and Eggsy realizes that the weight of an accent barely touches his tongue, like he's spent too much time in the States.

"Then let's celebrate." Eggsy says boldly, and tugs Roxy into his side when the lord releases his hand. "Sebastian."

Lancelot rolls her eyes, but follows along gracefully as Sebastian leads them to his private table.

Everything spins downhill from there.

**

It should be a little pathetic, how easy it is to get into Sebastian's private suite in the castle.

Honestly, a few seductive licks of the rim of Eggsy's cup and the lord was hooked. It was even easier, what, with him knocking back shot after shot, for Eggsy and Roxy to sidle up next to him. It made him the center of attention, drawing away from the fact that the two knights were only communicating with eye-contact and had not touched each other a single time, though they were meant to be a couple.

Eggsy was glad for it. A few kisses on the cheek or neck, sure. He could handle that. But it felt abusive to Roxy to do anything further. She was his mate! His sister by law, practically, when they married into Kingsman! And though he wouldn't deny watching another man touch her bare skin and whisper in her ear was a little sexy, it really just tossed rocks into his gut. He wanted to knock the prince out for touching his best gal.

But Sebastian's mouth on his neck? And those strong, calloused fingers on his thigh? It was making Eggsy's head spin a little too loose for comfort.

He had given up masturbation quite a while ago. Forgive a man his weakness, and all that.

Sebastian had been all too eager to take the two up to his suite a mere hour after meeting them. Maybe it was the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed, or the way

Eggsy's laugh pressed against the Romanian devil's throat.

Either way, the suite is gorgeous, and Eggsy finds himself being tossed onto the bed in a bit of a haze. Roxy climbs onto the bed beside him, giving him a concerned look before Sebastian is on top of him.

Against his own will, Eggsy moans as his hips buck against a thigh slotted between his legs and a mouth on his neck. His hands scramble for purchase on Sebastian's shoulders, and he pants openly as a hand slips between their bodies and presses a palm heel to his cock. That hand snaps the button open on his trousers while another catches around Roxy's neck. He pulls her down for a damp, sweet kiss, their panting mouths brushing against Eggsy's even as Eggsy's cock is being worked through layers of fabric.

"Since it's my birthday, I think it only fair I get to play with my presents first." He tilts his fierce gray-eyed gaze up to Roxy. "Does that sound alright with you, princess?"

Roxy laughs, leans forward, and presses her lips to the corner of Sebastian's mouth. She breaths something to him in his mother tongue, and when he laughs and presses his mouth firmly against her cheekbone, responding in some rushed-out Romanian, Eggsy is at a loss.

Eggsy's gut tumbles.

 _"Lancelot, that's not funny."_ Merlin chides, but a strained, almost curious laugh breaks from his mouth a moment later. _"Is it true?"_

"Wot?" Eggsy pants, and then Sebastian is turning back to him as Roxy undoes the lord's tie.

Sebastian replies with another string of slow, sensual Romanian, kissing Roxy with his eyes open and on Eggsy's face, and there is static over the comms.

 _"Galahad, neutralize the threat."_ Harry's voice says coldly and swiftly as a smirk that could be a fate worse than death spreads across the young Drakov's face.

"Huh?" Eggsy wheezes, and there's a hand tugging on the smooth, silver tie around his throat. His hands fist in the sheets, and he finds that his heart is beating out of control.

_"Immobilize Drakov."_

_"Arthur--"_

_"Take him out, now!"_ Comes the static crinkle over the comm as Sebastian grips the hips of Eggsy's pants, and Eggsy's thumb brushes his signet ring.

A tiny buzz fills his ears, and when Sebastian's lips are barely brushing his, he finds his fist pressed smoothly under the gorgeous man's jaw, delivering a solid hundred-thousand volts of electric energy into his nervous system.

The look on Sebastian's face as his hard-wiring is fried is almost comical, and Eggsy yelps and rolls out from under his body before it collapses into the pillows.

"Christ, Galahad, that was a bit much!" Roxy exclaims, even as she unzips her dress and drops it to the floor. She's completely herself again, the charming vixen all but gone.

Eggsy glances at her, finding her clad in a strapless black skin suit, two nine mills clipped to her thighs, a thin belt of mags around her hips, and her glasses tucked into another pocket on her leg. She pulls them out and puts them on before pinching the edge of one lace cut to pull a layer of fine skin-suit material over her arm, somehow rolled hidden under the lace band like elastic.

"Is that gonna keep you safe?" Eggsy pants, looking over his shoulder at the now unconscious Romanian arms dealer. He's still sitting on the bed because his legs are trembling, and his gut is a mess.

"It's bespoke and bullet-proof, so, yes. I certainly hope so. The latest in Kevlar nylon mutation, blended with spandex--supposed to be able to fit under anything. It's a prototype. Merlin?" Roxy says, and she strides over to a full length mirror and taps her glasses.

_"Looks great, Lancelot. Glad it fits."_

She laughs as she takes two clips from the material now rolled up her arms and clasps them together behind her neck, securing the sleeves.

 _"Galahad... Galahad!"_ Merlin snap, and Eggsy's head whips up and he finds that he's still panting.

"I, uhm... Hnn, I'm sorry." He blurts, reaching up to scrubs his palm over his cheek.

"Galahad. Eggsy, look at me." Roxy says firmly, and she cups his cheek and tips his head back.

He blinks up at her a little wildly. He thinks he's hard, but he can't tell. It's very frustrating, and doubly confusing.

"Arthur, you still there?" Harry demands before she releases Eggsy's face in favor of tying her hair up. "I think he broke."

 _"Are you alright, Galahad?"_ Harry's voice asks, but it's too cold to be comforting. There's an edge upon it, not unlike steel, and something smoky like desire.

Eggsy growls through his teeth, then springs up and tears open his jacket, loosening his tie and undoing his top button. "I'm fine. Rox, wot wos you plannin' on doin wif the dress?"

She sighs a little wistfully, scooping the material off the floor. "Well?" She pushes open a balcony door, the brisk evening air like frost as she strolls out. She holds the dress over the edge.

"Rox, no." Eggsy balks, and she laughs when she drops it over the balcony and down into the shadow of the mountainside.

"I can have another made." She holds up her finger. "In gold this time. Maybe turquoise."

"You're terrible." He laughs, and shakes out his nerves. "Alright, well... 'm gonna go take care of security."

"Come again?" Lancelot asks, and when Eggsy cracks the door open she nearly has a heart attack.

He produces from the waistline of his pants two pieces of metal that clip together like a gun and a mag. Or, it has a trigger and a barrel, anyway. On the top, there is a long line of buttons, and after clicking one, Eggsy fires it twice.

It makes a tiny noise like fwim.

There are two resounding thumps down the hall.

"What the hell is that?" Roxy demands, and she grabs Eggsy by the shoulder and tugs him back, looking down the hall to see the two security detail slumping against the wall.

"A thingamajig." Eggsy replies with a grin broad and bright as daylight.

 _"I assure you, it has a real name. But I'm glad you're enjoying it, Galahad."_ Merlin replies dryly.

"Is that all you brought?" Roxy asks as they slip into the hallway and follow the new route Merlin has scanned to their glasses, leading them deftly away from the rest of the security detail just round the other corner down some stairs.

"No, I just wanted to use it once." Eggsy replies, patting his thigh. Roxy assumes there's a gun strapped to it, and perhaps another on Eggsy's ankle. Unfortunately, a shoulder harness would have been too conspicuous, or Eggsy would have opted for that.

 _"Okay, you two. Once you get to the elevator shaft, you'll have to enter an access code. The sequence is 39-555. Then press the Z when you get into the lift box. It'll take you to the level where the weapons have been delivered."_ Merlin tells them easily, and Eggsy punches in the numbers when they find the sleek golden doors.

Roxy climbs in first, clicking the Z which gives the elevator a sudden kick. "Hostiles on the current floor?"

_"At least twenty. The heat sensors are a little thrown off by the temperature of the vault."_

"Is it cold down there?" Eggsy asks absently, twisting the barrel nose of his thingamajig before breaking it into two pieces and tucking it into his waistband. He then pulls from his ankle a glittering 44 magnum which he stuffs a mag into.

_"Not for much longer if all goes smoothly. Now, ready the explosives."_

"I wos gonna ask you bout that... We didn't bring any wif us... Did we?" Eggsy says slowly, and Roxy turns to him with wide eyes.

"I assumed you'd stuff some in your pockets, considering you weren't wearing a corset." She snaps.

"Well, excuse me, but I think we coulda fit a lil more than a skin suit under your pouffy dress."

 _"Children, dinnae fight, and dinnae worry. Lancelot has the devices."_ Merlin breaks in, and they both give each other a confused look.

"I do?"

 _"Galahad, if you would unclasp the necklace from round Lancelot's throat."_ Merlin all but groans, and Roxy pulls her ponytail out of the way and turns so Eggsy can work her clasp open and hold the long string of diamonds in his hand. _"Each individual diamond has a silver backing on the stone. Unclasp the teeth, and you'll be left with a tiny silver disk. Those are C-4 explosives."_

"Christ, shit." Eggsy balks, and he snaps the back off of one diamond to test the theory. The glittering stone is left hanging from a tiny drill-bit and a wrap of wire, but the silver back is now flat in Eggsy's palm, and three little lights blink up at him.

Roxy rolls her eyes, snapping a few more diamond backs off. "Should have known there was a catch."

 _"Don't be mistaken, Lancelot. Merlin bought the necklace for you, and the diamonds are real. Should it survive the mission, you may keep it. The explosives simply needed a boat to ride into shore with."_ Harry says dryly, as if he's sipping tea with his ankles crossed, wishing he were anywhere but at HQ watching the feed.

 _"Thank you, Arthur. I was going to keep that part to myself."_ Merlin replies bashfully.

"You're the guverna, Merlin." Eggsy teases, and then he touches the large starlight diamond hanging from the middle of the collar, nearly the size of his thumb.

 _"Careful with that one! That one is a phony. It's glass filled with a mercury base and a tiny circuit board. Break it, the mercury fries the circuits and sets the explosives off. That's the detonator."_ Merlin says suddenly, and Eggsy unclips the false diamond from the loop and presses it into Roxy's hand.

"Best you watch over it then, love." He laughs before clasping the string of glittering stones back around her neck. "Kay. We've each got half." He says quietly when the lift stops. "Level of threat beyond the doors?"

_"Centric. At least a ten. If you are engaged, you shoot to kill. Do you two understand?"_

Roxy nods, closing her eyes.

"Yes, Merlin." Eggsy says, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

_"Calling Lord Drakov now... He'll be indisposed in three minutes time. After that, any alarms that sound will result in the latter half of his personal guard being sent to dispatch you. As of now, you are in fight or flight."_

"Well, we ain't birds, are we, Lance?" Eggsy says playfully, and he cocks his gun as he does so.

She shakes her head, ponytail brushing her bare shoulders. "That we're not, Galahad."

 _"Scanning you both up with the locations for your explosives placement. You have thirty seconds."_ Merlin tells them, and Eggsy taps his lens and watches the blueprint pattern pan out before it creates something like a film over his vision, coating metal bars and floor plans with glowing blue and white lines.

"Ready when you are, Lynn." Eggsy huffs, leaning his shoulder up against the door of the lift. Roxy tips back on her heels, lifting her own gun, relaxing her elbows.

The seconds tick by like hours... And then, the door shifts.

_"Go."_

The door slides open, and Eggsy rolls out firing.

He knocks off two rounds, taking down three guards. Roxy follows, easily mowing through another five men in the immediate vicinity.

The chaos that ensues is instant.

In such a large bunker, the gunshots echo like thunder, and soon, there's military grade fire flying through the air. There are three levels, and they have opened the elevator doors on the top-most circle. Down below on the flat, there is a massive closed door, steel and layered, shut against the pass that leads out to the mountain highway.

There are most decidedly more than twenty men. Not just counting the men sent with the convoy, there is also a small batch that looks to be Sebastian's guards, and another larger batch that would most definitely be his father's.

The vault is something of a death trap.

How exciting.

Eggsy easily winds up on the second level, gripping the rail and launching himself over after giving Roxy a half-assed salute. A simple barrel roll lands him against the wall, and he quickly takes out two men. He's like a jungle cat, leaping over boxes and crates, and shooting like a marksman twice his grade.

He clips an explosive under a power switch, a long chamber of dark stone running up the wall beside it. No doubt a foundation. With that, he bends over backwards and clips a security thug in the head, then rolls over a box and fires twice. The first hits the thug again, sending him flat on his back. The second hits the man behind him square in the throat.

 _"Well done, Galahad."_ Harry praises, and Eggsy feels some richer thrill tingle up his spine at the words and tone of Harry's voice.

"Don't sound so surprised." He teases easily, punching a close-up assailant in the face with his signet ring buzzing, busting the man's knee cap with a kick before shooting him in the throat. When the body thumps on the ground, he fires off three more marks, each hitting their target before he's taking off headlong to the next location.

He's only engaged in hand-to-hand combat twice, and he easily breaks one man's nose up into his skull. The other is a little bigger, wrapping an arm around Eggsy's throat with the threat of breaking his neck imminent.

The little blond uses his core to knock the man over his shoulder, catching him by the arm around his neck and snapping the bone from the socket. His scream is cut short when Eggsy stomps on his throat. He shoots him in the head, twice, for good measure.

When he has half of his chips gone, he presses his back to a wall behind an enclave and catches his breath. "Lance? Hangin' in there?"

His response is a loud scream that should be too high to be considered manly. When he jumps and looks up over the edge of the balcony, he can see Roxy on his wall opposite, putting her foot--still clad in those lovely heels--against a man's chest before she shoots him in the head. When his body rolls over, there's a large stain of red on his pale gray pants.

"I'm fine, thanks, love." She replies a little breathlessly, then clips one of her chips to the wall. "I see the computer, Merlin. I'm on my way to it. Galahad, how many are left?"

"Goons or explosives?"

"Both?"

"By my count, another dozen guys. And I've got four chips. You?"

"Three. You're slacking, Galahad." The honey-eyed girl teases, catching two men on a lower level with the twist of a wrist.

"Cheater." Eggsy remarks, and then a bullet sinks into the concrete above his head, dust plumming like a halo around his golden hair. "Christ! Fuck!!"

 _"Galahad?!"_ Harry's voice exclaims, and Eggsy barrel rolls across the floor until he's behind a large wall of steel crates, more than likely filled with very large guns.

 _"Christ, boy, you're off to giving us heart attacks."_ Merlin says before his channel goes quiet, a sign that he's instructing Roxy of something that would only distract the other knight. Eggsy catches sight of Roxy ducking into a room with a wide glass wall and a huge iron door on the main floor.

Lights flicker in the chamber.

"Fuckin' hell, that was close." Eggsy laughs a little breathlessly, lying flat on his back while he butts another clip into his gun. "Don' worry, Arthur. They're crap shots."

 _"Completely and totally besides the point."_ Harry shoots back, and he sounds like he's white-knuckling it, gripping his control monitor in agonizing suspense.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "Tell me somefin', do all evil villains hire people that are terrible shots to guard their loot?" He teases. When he springs up, he shoots four other men, only three of the shots landing on their marks. The fourth is taken in the side instead of the heart, and Eggsy curses before he lands a bullet between the man's eyes.

_"Focus, Galahad." Harry scolds._

"Really. Is there some kind ov ad in the post for it? 'If you're a shit shot, come work for this drug overlord!'" Eggsy laughs, running at full speed to the next location before he sticks the explosive to the pillar on the move, never once forgetting his past of jumping roofs and leaping from balcony to alley to fence rail.

_"Galahad!"_

"Wot?!" Eggsy all but shrieks in confusion, and when he whips his head around he does so just in time to see a man sliding out of another dark elevator shaft hidden by a column of rock.

There are several bursts of gunfire, maybe nine for sure, louder than thunder this close up, and Eggsy's eyes widen as the barrage comes flying at him.

The bullets nip at his skin through the thick material of his bespoke jacket, pressure that stings and pinches the breath from his lungs, and he falls to his knees and shoots, shoots, shoots.

His clip is empty as he slides across the floor and flips over a fallen bundle of something like spears, landing on his feet and jamming the butt of his gun into one man's eye socket, one a gunshot didn't finish.

There are fifteen very powerful thuds. All of the men that were in the hidden service elevator collapse as corpses at his feet.

A laugh of triumph wants to work itself from Eggsy's lips, but he just whines dryly in his throat as he tugs on his jacket hard enough to dislodge the spray of metal.

With that whine, something is terribly, terribly wrong.

If he heard a distinct nine gunshots when the lift doors first opened, he only hears eight shells click against the concrete.

"Galahad? Are you okay?" Roxy calls, and her voice sounds high and distressed.

Eggsy runs his hand down his chest, pulling back the fabric of his unbuttoned jacket to expose his stomach. He's in a daze, his movement slow and deliberate. The black of his cotton dress shirt is slick and glistening like oil on his right side, just beneath his ribs.

A wet sigh shakes from his throat, and his hand trembles as he lets go of his jacket in favor of pressing his hand over the space.

Of all the places to get shot, he had to catch a bullet where his suit wasn't covering him.

"I... I'm fine, Lancelot. Stick to the mission." Eggsy replies, and he bends double and pulls another clip from the band around his ankle. The strain that it takes for him to lean down is agonizing, immensely embarrassing in its feat, and Eggsy stuffs the clip into place on one knee, hating the sharp ache thrumming through his side.

He can feel the bullet's entry, the path it has cut through muscle and tissue, biting through cloth and flesh. The blood quickly soaking up his side is hot and thick, nauseating in its consistency to flow.

_"Lancelot, Galahad has been injured. Protect--"_

Harry starts, but he's cut off when Eggsy shoots another man through the mouth.

"Fuck it, 'm fine. Lancelot, keep up the hack. I've only got three left." He barks.

"Galahad, if you--"

"Please, Lance, don'. Jus don'. I can handle this." Eggsy all but whines, and he presses his left hand over his side, winding his arm about his waist while he charges on, shooting a few more henchmen.

 _"Galahad, regroup and give the rest of the chips to Lancelot. If you continue moving around like that, you'll lose too much blood."_ Harry's voice sounds strained despite the effort of control and order he's pouring into it.  _"You've been shot just beneath the lung. Your internal damage could be--"_

"Stop... Don--"Eggsy wheezes, leaning against a stone wall as he catches his breath. It makes the bullet wriggle about in his muscles, his stomach quivering and his pecs tensing up beneath his armpits. He presses another charge into place, watching the lights sparkle for a second before another goon lunges around the corner.

Eggsy easily catches his wrist, and the nose of the gun fires three shots into the concrete beside his ear before he snaps the man's wrist and catches the gun when his dead nerves release it. He flips it over with one hand effortlessly and plants two shells between the henchman's eyes.

Blood touches his cheek, makes his stomach rumble, and Eggsy gasps wetly when the man crumples at his feet. "Christ, Lancelot, what you got?"

"Merlin's breaking the encryption now. The firewall's already down. Can you give me four minutes??" She gasps, and the sound of a gunshot follows.

Eggsy laughs. "I'll give you five." With that, he grips the rail and launches himself over. The fall is too far for a normal human to make, but Eggsy takes it like some kind of super-soldier.

His ankles give the barest protest on the top of a tall metal box, firing off shots before he lets his knees give and tucks under, his back catching the top of a crate that he easily rolls over. When he reaches the flat ground level he runs past the massive steel door, dispensing his last two chips on either side of the long opening.

"Lancelot?!" He snaps, pressing his back against the cold steel before he shoots two goons making their way towards the computer room.

"Almost!" She exclaims back, and then there's the sound of shrill computer feedback. "Got it! I've got it, scrambling the data now!" A pause comes after, and then Eggsy hears her laugh. "Got it--all of it! Crashing the hardrive!! But I'm out of mags." She's breathless as she says it, and Eggsy runs forward to catch her elbow as she ducks out of the computer rook with the slim USB in hand.

"C'mon, Lance. That's fine. Well done! Merlin?" Eggsy says, and he pushes the girl ahead of him to the stairs.

Each step is agony, and Eggsy's vision is already swimming.

 _"When you reach the elevator I'll override the system and take you to the roof. Extraction in ten."_ The sound of the plane's engine rumbling is the only indicator that Merlin is really airborne, and Roxy sighs as they reach the second floor landing.

Then there's a loud, craning groan from beneath them, and the huge door to the dark mountainside road is lifting itself open. Headlights flood the chamber, and both of the young knights curse coldly, blood turning to ice, nerves sparking afire.

"Run, Rox! Go!" Eggsy snaps, protocol be damned as he rushes his partner ahead of him.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, Eggsy can't remember the last time something hurt this much.  _Christ._

They reach the elevator, Eggsy barely holding off enemy fire with precise shots timed with a steady elbow and a shaking trigger finger.

"Merlin, what are the odds of us making it out of here alive?"

_"Right now? Shrinking fast. We didn't anticipate a second convoy."_

_"It's not a convoy. It's Drakov's private army."_ Harry says coldly, his voice quiet like the pressure of calm before the storm.  _"There was a disturbance on the upper floor--after the Lord's son went missing, he called out complete battle protocal. He and his guests are being escorted promptly from the premisis."_

"The Krums?" Eggsy asks, pressing his hand over his side. The blood gushes between his fingers like damp sand through toes. When they reach the lift, Eggsy kicks his long leg out and hits the green button, the ground shaking with the effort it takes the mechanism to move. Gunfire sprays at them and Eggsy quickly shoves Roxy out of the way, pinning her to the wall with a column between them and the fire.

 _"Quite. I doubt the lord and his son will be escaping anywhere tonight, especially with one incapacitated."_ Harry says gruffly when they can hear again. _"All that matters is that the two of you get out safely with the disk."_

Eggsy pants, holding Roxy tightly against the wall, watching bullets bite holes through the concrete. "No... Not the two of us."

"Galahad?" The honey-eyed girl says quietly, her mouth falling open and a bead of sweat running down her temple.

Swiftly taking his suit jacket off, Eggsy peels Roxy away from the wall and drapes it over her shoulders, tucking one felt-sheathed button through its hole to seal it shut around her.

"Gal, what are you--"

"Jus trust me. You trust me, don' you, love?"

Eggsy reaches his fingers into the curved breast of her skin suit, drawing the crystal detonator from the warmth of her flushed skin. There's a heartbeat where they hold eye-contact, the thunder of the firefight echoic and almost distant compared to the sound of their blood rushing in their ears. It's like sky meeting earth, and a breath passes between the two of them that they share in sync.

The elevator doors crack open swiftly.

Roxy understands, and her eyes widen as she moves to make a sound of protest.

Eggsy pushes her arms length away--before he kicks her in the stomach, launching her into the lift and against the side wall behind the safety of the steel box. She hits the ground, appearing unharmed, despite the heavy line of fire pelting the back of the elevator shaft.

"Eggsy, no!!" She screams, completely aghast on her side. She scrambles to get up, but Eggsy quickly shoots the lift operation panel, and the doors snap shut like clenched jaws, a blasting metallic clang.

"Merlin, get her to the roof. I'll hold them off." Eggsy says heavily, dropping onto his knees behind the stone pillar as the men continue to file into the vault.

_"Galahad, you can't--"_

"That panel down there... Does it operate the big fuckin' door, Lynn?"

_"Yes, Galahad, but I don't--"_

"Good enuff." Eggsy snaps back before he steadies his elbow on the rail and fires three shots.

The panel sparks aflame, and the steel door starts coming down right on the middle of a Jeep full of men. Surprisingly, it splits the vehicle in half before the steel beneath it has a chance to fight back. Eggsy thinks he should cheer, but then a sharp pain rips at his arm and he all but shrieks, twisting around and sliding down the pillar. His left arm has been shot, just beneath the elbow, blood gushing down the back of his hand, dripping from his fingers as he twists his palm up, the crystal shaking in his grasp.

"Ah,  _Christ."_ Eggsy moans, the muscles in his forearm giving a violent spasm as he reaches across his side to press the bullet wound beneath his ribs with his closed fist. "Lancelot... Where are you?"

 _"I'm on the roof. I... I see the plane! Eggsy, get to the roof! There's got to be another way! The service lift! Something!"_ Her voice is shrill and gusted with wind, as if the storm outside is wearing her thin.

Eggsy sighs and shakes his head. "No. can't make it. Too many guys. I..." He laughs, falling onto his ass. He lets his legs stretch out, and when a bullet bites the side of his calf, he doesn't even flinch, because the suit stops it well enough. Plus, the pain in his arm and side are too strong for him to care. "I'm gonna sit here for a min."

 _"Galahad, you need to get up. Clear a pathway for yourself. Get to the service elevator and I'll swing the plane around for you."_ Merlin says almost weakly, and Eggsy can hear the twinge of desperation in his voice. He's losing the nerve to stay together... He's willing to endanger the mission for his life.

"Nah... can't be arsed, Lynn." Eggsy says, leaning around the pillar to shoot half-assedly at the enemies. Surprisingly, five of his eight shots hit men in fatal positions. Even when he's giving up, Eggsy can't lose.

 _"That's enough! For Christ's sake, Galahad, if anyone can get out of there it's you. I will not have you giving up on me. You have a mission to finish!!"_ Harry shouts, his voice unshaken but his tone is soaked in anguish and despair.

"'S alright, Arthur... You guys just gotta dig me out, right? Gonna send recovery in twenty-four hours, eh?" Eggsy teases half-heartedly, and he closes his eyes. The chaos seems to quiet around him for a moment, and when he opens his eyes again, they're heavy-lidded and his vision is turning to shadow at the edges.

 _"No... No, Galahad."_ Harry all but whispers, and then he pants into his mouthpiece as if he's out of words.

"Roxy..." Eggsy breaths, and the great task it has become is starting to sink in. His lungs are on fire, his muscles protesting every slight tug and tense. "I need you to make sure my mum and Daisy know I love 'em. Keep an eye on 'em for me, can ya?" He says, reaching up to pull his glasses off. He turns them round so that the camera lens is capturing his face. "You'll do that for me, yah?"

 _"Eggsy, don't--"_ Roxy whines, and then there's a bitter sniffle from her line. He can hear Merlin's voice doubled over, through Roxy's comm and his own.

_"Don't worry, lad. We'll be right there. We're going to cut you a path, and--"_

"No time... No." Eggsy huffs. "This mission is almost finished. I can do this. Rox, just promise me, alright?"

 _"I promise. Whatever you want, Eggsy, but you're not dying on me. You're my best mate. I need you!"_ There's a timid laugh there, and it makes Eggsy smile.

The effort it takes to hold up his glasses is making his shoulder scream and his bicep tremble. But he keeps them there.

"I love you too, bruv." He replies, lifting his knee up so he can rest his wrist on the cap, his glasses steadying almost instantly.

A tear treks down his cheek, and Eggsy tries to laugh it off, lifting his left arm to sweep it away. But it aches in protest, the torn muscle refusing to support his hand, and so he just bites his lip and whimpers. There's shouting behind him, and it sounds like cautionary yelling, even though they must know Eggsy is alone by now. Alone and giving up.

There's something else... Something more he must do.

More tears sting his eyes, and his voice warbles when he speaks.

"And Harry?" He adds, letting his head fall back as the heat swells, the sound of the alarms ringing and glass shattering pouring out of his mind, leaving only the quiet feed from his comm.

It feels  _so damn good_ to say that name again, to feel the weight and flavor of it on his tongue, the way it tingles familiarly down his throat, sparks on his lips. After so long, it's almost like coming home... And  _that's_  something Eggsy doesn't think he's going to get to do tonight.

He tilts his head to press his ear against his shoulder, digging the comm piece deeper in. It's complete and total silence, as if he's lost the link to his family completely. He licks his lips, then sits his head up and stares into the glasses. He can see his own reflection staring back at him between the black frames, blue eyes glittering, mouth cracked with ruby, hair completely disheveled. He looks like the spunky kid Harry dragged off the streets... He looks like Eggsy Unwin, and he thinks he'd much rather die like that than as Galahad.

After all, it was Eggsy Unwin that Harry first believed in.

"Take care of JB for me." He sighs, closing his eyes and letting his head fall forward.

_I'm sorry..._

_I love you..._

_Remember me; be proud of me._

_I love you_.

He turns the detonator over in his hand, the effort with his busted muscle making him breath through his nose harshly. It glitters so prettily, he wonders how he thought it could have been real.

He thinks of his time at Kingsman... Glittering so prettily, every moment a dream, everything a fantasy.

Maybe when he crushes the stone he'll wake up, and he'll be bruised and sore in his bed in his mum's flat, Dean's screaming down the hall, Daisy crying, his mother whimpering...

The dream ended.

He crushes the stone in his hand, glass splintering against his palm, mercury and fuses pouring and sparking between his fingers.

 _"Eggsy, no! I--"_ Harry's voice is cut off by the burst of the first explosion.

They're apparently not on the same wavelength, and as they go off one by one, Eggsy wonders how long he has.

But the blast sends fiery waves through the room, and his glasses are knocked from his knee, his body protesting as another, much closer, blast goes off. Something caves in beneath him, another wave bursting from the direction of the computer room.

The two explosives on the large steel door go off at the same time, and for a moment, icy air floods the chamber.

The vault is shaking, and Eggsy feels naked without the weight of his pendant, for the first time in several months. Instead of reaching up to clasp the medal, he wraps his right hand up in the tie Harry had made for him, tugging and crushing his cloth-covered fist to his own chest, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then all of the other charges seem to catch up at once, and the volume of the explosion is something to behold.

Eggsy thinks he can hear yelling over the comm, but he just feels warm and achy and tired all over. The blasts combined is too much, and soon the scent of earthen rubble is clouding his lungs, flame and smoke mingling in his blood, clouding his vision.

His mind blanks out, and there's a heavy, black weight tangling around his throat, yanking him down, down, down, through shadow and ruin.

There's one thing he clings to;  _memory._

He can taste blood, Dean's fist still making his cheek sting, even as he's bouncing a sleeping Daisy in his arms, singing to her quietly hours after the punch. He can hear sirens and feel the night air gushing through the windows as he races backwards across the bi-ways and crowded streets. He can see the sun, stepping out of the police station, seeing Harry leaning against the wall, looking edible and lethal. The scent of the Black Prince touches his nose, and he watches Harry effortlessly lay Dean's goons down with a fucking umbrella before he comes to sit back down across from Eggsy, bumping their feet together like nothing. Harry's voice brushes his throat like the voice of God, and he feels something like freedom tumble through his chest as Dean backs off of him, looking honestly afraid for once.

Days spin together like melting cotton candy, and Eggsy feels the soar of pride and the crush of agony. There's the thrill of training, the pain of watching Harry sleep and endless slumber, the delight in indulging himself in Harry's company more than necessary... The bite of his shame and dissaproval.

He hears Harry promise him; promise him he'll come back, sort out his mess... A promise of things that would never come--the promise of a world spinning down to a hundred night terrors ending with bang, bang, bang...

Then there's a snap like lightning, and the memory claws into his skin, bright and warm, despite its agonizing reality. He steps into the Knight's Chamber, sees Harry sitting at the head, glowing like a solar flare. He feels his back slam against the wall of HQ, Harry pinning his hands above his head, gaze burning him to cinders before he claimed Eggsy's mouth--a mouth that would only ever belong to Harry Hart. Then that's all there is.

All he can think about is that kiss. It clouds his mind from the crushing weight bearing down on his body, his soul. His breath stills, and he closes his eyes, his entire being centered around one thing, one point, one tiny spark of starlight glowing in the night of his life. All he can think about is the kiss.

How he never got another...

Then world goes quiet, and Eggsy forgets.

Finally.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm sorry.
> 
> But I see a light at the end of this tunnel! Also, I actually posted on a Saturday night, so maybe I can get myself somehow back onto schedule!! Thank you all for your patience and kind words and just, guah! You shall be rewarded most handsomely for your affection, I promise. Seriously. Just thank you all.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If anyone would re-read it with added angst, let me know. Please, continue to fuel my fire. I started this story for myself, but I'm finishing it for you <3 <3


	5. Breathe Again (Pars Unum)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy presses his lips and takes a deep breath. "I wanna go home." He says quietly.
> 
> The corner of Harry's mouth pulls up at that, and he brushes his thumb in a smooth arch over the back of Eggsy's smaller hand. "As I always say--please Eggsy Unwin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this isn't ready, and I'm desperately hoping it's as good as it can be, but I want you guys to have this. If it's not one-hundred caliber, you'll tell me... Right??
> 
> Part one for a good reason, I promise!! Don't hate me! I live to please! It will just be easier for you guys this way, I promise.
> 
> Reunion. Feels. Eggsy's scruff gives me life.  
> I thought it was time we saw Harry again. Not Arthur--Harry.
> 
> Yay.
> 
> TW: Needles (they bug me), some blood, mentions of forced prostitution. (very short and minute, don't hate me)
> 
> -xo Mo [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)

_There a distinct kind of sound that one can feel with their whole being. It is the sound a heart breaking._

Harry hears it like a clash of thunder directly overhead, as if he'd been struck by lightning in his chest.

One second, he sees Eggsy, glasses propped on his knee, outstretched arm steadied as the feed shows his face. His lip is a little bloody, his hair mussed into his face, and the tender, vulnerable smile on his face. When Harry's name falls from his lips, Eggsy's tear-stained voice cuts Harry more deeply than anything before in his life...

Harry feels more than hears the scream that dies on his lips when the first explosion crashes through the vault, and he watches in horror as Eggsy's glasses go flying, skittering across the floor and landing with a view on the boy.

Eggsy scrambles back against the pillar, skin lit with gold and shadowed with the darkest black. His hands are bloodied, his legs kicking as he's thrashed down against the floor, panting as the world goes to hell around him.

Another blast throws Eggsy across the ground onto his back, and the last thing Harry sees is the young, wild, gorgeous boy's face twisted up in pain and fear before everything goes incredibly bright and loud before his glasses are crushed and the feed is lost.

His modem goes dark, and he dully notes that the number ticking away the minutes of the recording stops.

It's quiet over the comms. Merlin and Roxy say nothing.

It sounds like no one is breathing.

Then, Merlin, " _Harry, I'm s--"_

Harry tugs out his ear piece and clicks his mouse twice, shutting down his connection to the outside world. The black feed of Eggsy's destroyed cam crashes out of view, leaving Harry's Kingsman symbol wallpaper glowing on the screen. He presses himself back against the firm support of the back of his office chair, the sun-burnt walls and front post pages looming eerily around him. It's this moment that he becomes truly, greatly appreciative of his idea to leave HQ in favor of watching the Romanian mission from his office at home.

He reaches out and lifts the decanter of his 1824 Macallan--retrieved from the drinking cabinet downstairs before the evening began--and splashes a good inch gracefully into his crystal tumbler. His signet ring clinks against the tumbler as takes a long, slow breath, lifting the glass to his lips to take a long, steady gulp. He doesn't necessarily mean to down it all in one swig like a shot, but when he does, it burns its way down through his chest and settles atop the weight of dread in his gut. It makes a terrible sloshing sound, and he licks his lips and steadies the glass against the edge of his desk, fingers pressing the crystal tightly.

So tightly hairline fractures splinter the crystal like frost growing on a sweaty window pane.

A heartbeat passes... Then two. Then ten. Growing to fill the silence as Harry's breath falls from his lips in short, trembling pants.

Then they pick up to a pace so fast it's the only thing Harry can hear, aside from the thunder of his heartbeat in his ears, before the shatter of wild lightning screaming high as he launches the crystal glass at the wall with all his might.

The spray of crystal tinkling against the wall and then splashing like ice across the wood floor floods the room, breaking the immense pressure and letting a flood rush through Harry's chest like he's never felt before.

He plucks his glasses from the bridge of his nose, setting them on his desk before before raking his fingers through his hair, bowing his head down towards the smooth, polished wood. A tiny shake racks his shoulders, makes his frame quake, and then he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and whines so high in his throat it barely makes sound.

And his eye burns so, so bad.

Not the good one.

The damaged one, hidden behind the slip of his eyepatch; the ruin of his face. He can feel the tear duct swelling against the skin, pressing violently against scar tissue and raw nerves that couldn't be saved...

The other eye drips razor blades down his cheek, until Harry Hart has nothing left to give.

He feels the chambers of his heart shut down, one by one...

The silence is screaming.

**

There's a distinct kind of silence that one can feel with their whole being. It's the silence of being completely, totally, and utterly alone...

This silence makes the ears ring, the skin crawl, the lungs compress, and the throat squeeze. It makes the world dark and drains all the tingly brightness out of the heart.

It's a silence like being dead.

In fact, Eggsy is one hundred percent positive that he is dead.

It's the silence that he has been lying in for twenty hours.

He comes in and out of consciousness... He thinks. Wherever he is, it's so dark that if he thinks he opens his eyes, it's still pitch black. His body is numb, his memory shattered.

There's a definite ache in his side. It's unlike any pain he's ever known, but it's distant and cold compared to the painstaking process that is his heartbeat. It's slow, steady, and each beat sends a nervous tingle through his system that makes it steadily harder and harder to breathe.

Something is stuck in his fuzzy memory, the warmth of it like dandelion fuzz caught in the honey slick of his brain.

A name.

_Harry... Harry..._

He swears he can feel his limbs, swears he can feel the pressure in each bone, the tingle of each nerve, and the fact that he is immobile makes him want to curse. Maybe he'd try, if he wasn't fluttering in and out of consciousness.

He thinks.

That's the problem though, isn't it? It's so black, and so stifling, dusty and cold and everything is numb. He can't tell if he's awake, if he's not, if it's day or night, if he's been here for minutes or days. Everything is one moment of cold, dark hell...

...Before a light touches his face.

A weight shifts suddenly, and the stagnant air around him shifts, and the rusty taste of blood in his mouth is replaced by a gush of wintry clean breath running across his face.

His head falls back, and his mouth falls open as he sighs, a hand hotter than fire cupping his neck. He thinks he tries to move, but he can't feel his legs, and his fingers seem to be miles away.

But this confirms that he's alive, doesn't it?

There's suddenly screaming above him, rumbling like rocks giving away, and the shouting sounds something like, 'we found him; he's alive!'

That  _definitely_ confirms that he's alive. That is, unless he's hallucinating.

More debris is moved, the sound of rocks clacking together, and Eggsy whines when feeling gushes into his legs like water released from a dam.

A bright light is shining into his eyes, a face distantly familiar with spark-blue eyes and silvery waves comes into view.

"Galahad? Gah--Eggsy, kiddo, you're alright. We've got ya, boy." Degore's lilting Brittish brushes his ears, and the hands on his cheeks are large and somehow gentle as they smack at him to get his attention.

When his vision clears, he sees above him a focal point, what he believes to be the moon.

Behind Degore are Tristan and Gawain, one of whom is talking hurriedly into their comm, saying something about Arthur, the other directing a few people Eggsy knows to be Kingsman staff, impervious to excavation. He coughs, the sound dry, making his lungs ache, his ribs grind, and the tearing pain in his side spread outward.

When his body is freed from the rubble, the med-vacs move in, and there's a flurry of hands, light shining in his eyes, fingers prodding bruises and sentences he doesn't quite hear flying all over the place.

"--lost a lot of blood."

"--broken bone here, here..."

"--he's barely hanging onto consciousness."

"Galahad, we need you to focus. Say something." A female voice asks him.

His body is being hoisted onto a stretcher, and he can feel fingers curling up in his right hand. Something screams in protest at that, but Eggsy can't say so. "You're going to be alright, boy." Degore says gently. "Say something. Stay with us, boy--focus. Say something?"

"--heart rate dropping."

"--mercury poisoning."

"--he's dropping out."

"Galahad, just  _say something." T_ ristan's voice snaps, crisp Irish drawl biting, but he almost sounds afraid as he says it, and Degore's fingers curled round his hand crush his infinitely tighter.

"Ha... rry..." Is all Eggsy can manage before he blacks out again.

**

"Harry?" Merlin says softly, and Harry lifts his head to catch his friend's reflection in the glass of the window.

It's streaked with rain, the downpour of the past twenty-six hours unrelenting in its ability to turn the entire world gray, stretching thin to the edge of the manor green, leaving the treeline beyond a black haze.

Harry's heart uses tiny claws to climb its way into his throat, and it stays there for a long time, preventing him from breathing, forcing him to dig his nails into the skin of his wrist where he holds both hands behind his back.

"We have him." Merlin says, and Harry manages to take a short, fast breath through the nose before he rounds on him, lips parting and gaze full of hope. "He's here."

With that, Harry is striding for the door, hesitating only for a moment when his friend catches his elbow and tugs him close.

"Please... Try not to overwork yourself."

Harry tries to roll his eyes, but he hasn't the energy to be sassy with his oldest friend right now. Instead, he allows Merlin to pull him in for a one-sided hug before they're both walking through the halls of the manor with less and less composure.

They arrive just in time, so the first thing Harry catches sight of is Eggsy being wheeled through to med bay...

And he breaks.

**

It is Harry's voice that pulls Eggsy up from the depths of unconsciousness, cutting through cobwebs and sweeping through soot.

"Eggsy!" Harry exclaims, and it sounds distant and cold, hollow in its desperation.

Still, it makes Eggsy's fingers twitch, and his eyes roll behind his lids, blinking open to see row after row of cold, pale light. "H...ry." His throat cracks, and when a tear shivers down his cheek it's quite the surprise, because one would think he'd been too dehydrated for such activity.

"How is he?" Harry demands, and Eggsy hears brisk footsteps, a warm hand landing on the top of his own bloody knuckles. It's different from the hands that have been touching him previously. It's familiar in its weight, light in its warmth, and it sends a wave of desperate exhaustion, relief, and neediness through Eggsy's body.

"Holding steady." Gawain says, his voice low and husky somewhere to Eggsy's left. "He didn't budge an inch the plane ride here."

"Thought he died on us for sure, but his heart never once stopped beating." Tristan adds. "What the--he's moving."

"We have to prep him for surgery. Arthur, you're going to have to let him go." A nurse says in a gentle but firm voice, and Eggsy's gut rolls.

His eyes snap wide open, and he's glancing around in a daze that forces one of the nurses to pull the mask back from his mouth where she had been letting it hover over his mouth to help him breathe. When he tenses up, the catheter in his arm that is feeding him drugs bends, and he whines and lashes his arm out.

"Harry!" He gasps, and suddenly, there are hands holding his shoulders down.

"Galahad, please, calm down." Someone tells him, and a pain blooms in his side.

"Harry!" He snaps again, and he finds that the arm he's gripping onto is holding him back, fingers wrapped around his in a burning, engulfing embrace.

"I'm right here, Eggsy. You have to breathe--just be still." Harry tells him, but he's still not managed to locate Harry's face. His vision is too unsteady.

"Hurts... It hurts-- _Harry."_ Eggsy whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, and the stretcher bed gives an angry jolt as they crash through the ICU doors.

It's a bit of a mad scramble, and there's Tristan talking heatedly and the nurses speaking animatedly between one another, the doctor giving directions. Someone sticks another needle into Eggsy's arm, and he whimpers, because whatever they shoot him up with makes his skin feel like it's being burnt off, and his nails dig into Harry's wrist.

And finally... He finally  _sees him._

"Harry." Eggsy breaths, like it's the only word he's ever known or ever will again, his voice barely above a whisper, because they've stopped him in the middle of a hall for some reason or another, and Harry's leaning over him.

His hair is a perfectly kempt mess, some strands fallen free from the careful hold of his styling oil, glasses too low on the bridge of his nose. The misty look in his whiskey-colored gaze is like looking at the alcohol through a fractured shot glass, and the quivering set of his tender mouth makes Eggsy's eyes blink rapidly.

"I'm right here, Eggsy. You're going to be alright. Just keep fighting. Keep fighting for me." Harry says breathlessly, and his free hand is smoothing through Eggsy's mess of hair, because god, yes, he is a mess.

He's covered in rubble and dust and dried blood, he looks like he's been dredged in filth and then fried in agony, and his tears are leaving perfect porcelain trails streaked across his dirty cheeks.

"You'll be fine, lad." Merlin's voice says from somewhere beside him, but all Eggsy can see is Harry. All he knows is Harry--well and truly.

"Lancelot is on her way. You'd best make it out of this surgery for her sake."

"Arthur, his blood toxicity level is at an extreme. We have to get him to surgery now." The doctor says, and there's a hand on Eggsy's wrist, trying to pull his hand from Harry.

"N-no. No, please--Harry." Eggsy shudders, and then there is no longer a shred of contact between himself and Harry he loves.

"Harry!"

"Don't give up, Eggsy." Harry calls to him, and his voice sounds very far away, and Eggsy's empty gut rolls and pinches when the stretcher swivels to the side, spinning him a one-eighty so that his feet and head are turned in Harry's direction.

"Prep room two for surgery. Someone get a morphine drip and some sodium going on this kid. Sophie, begin the anesthesia drip." The doctor rushes out, and Eggsy can feel someone distantly prodding at his left hand.

"Harry!" He shouts, watching as Harry slumps helplessly against Merlin as Merlin squeezes his eyes shut.

Eggsy grabs his own waist, and his fingers slip through the mess of his bloody wound, and a nurse clasps his wrist and attempts to pull his hand away from the bleeding, gaping puncture. He looks from his hand--stained with blood and trembling--back up at the end of the hall.

Roxy is there too, suddenly, trotting around the corner just in time for Eggsy to get one last good look at the horror and worry on her face.

But he cuts his focus short, fixating his gaze on Harry while he rolls down the hall.

All his energy has been spent, and then there's a needle sticking into the side of his neck, and his brain goes almost immediately fuzzy.

"You're going to be alright, Galahad." A nurse tells him, petting his hair with delicate fingers. "Be strong now. For him, alright?"

His body sags against the firm length of the stretcher mat, heartbeat going from racing to trotting to skipping slowly, slowly, slow.

He lets the flourescents on the ceiling blind him as they burst through another set of doors, the world going echoic and cold around him.

"Harry..."

**

After the surgery, Eggsy is out for almost six days.

He lies in his bed in HQ sick bay, unconscious and fair as the proverbial sleeping beauty.

There were mild complications during his surgery, but nothing that couldn't be overcome with determination and the right kinds of drugs. His bones are mended, his gashes and scrapes cleaned and bandaged, and he's in the clear the second his blood toxicity levels drop down below twenty percent.

He's been cleaned thoroughly, and polished up a bit, no longer dingy and grimy, though his hair is a mess of gold feathers and his jaw has the sweetest prickle of stubble upon it.

Harry would find it endearing if he could just see those baby blues.

"It does you no good to sit here all day, you know." Merlin says from the doorframe, leaning against it like an imposing reaper.

Harry closes his eyes, his hand resting on the edge of Eggsy's bed. His fingers are just barely touching the soft flesh of the younger boy's upturned palm, but he won't allow himself more than that.

"I'll have you know I filed a great deal of paperwork this afternoon before I came down here. And this morning, I went and took a look at the new computer tech interns. Thank you." Comes his sour reply.

Merlin shakes his head and walks into the room, tapping his pen on his clipboard before he takes down Eggsy's vitals for his own personal records. "He's stronger than he looks. Amazing; he's holding up so well."

"He hasn't woken up since before the surgery. But he's not in a coma."

"He's tired, Harry. He's been through a great deal o' grief. Dinnae worry."

"Don't you  _dinnae worry me,_ Merlin. _I have_  to worry. Eggsy is my..." Harry snaps, but he quickly clicks his jaw shut and pulls his hand away from Eggsy's skin. "He's my responsibility."

"He's a Kingsman, Harry. He is his  _own_ responsibility. And he was never just yours to worry about." Merlin says coldly. "If you're going to worry about him, you do it right. I know what he is to you."

Harry closes his eyes and lets his head duck forward. "Merlin, that's not fair."

"Life's not fair--don't be such a child. Your boy is lying unconscious in a hospital bed because he purposefully dropped a hundred feet of rock on his own head to complete a mission and protect a friend. Look at him, Harry." He tosses his hand out, and the silence swells between them, punctuated by the beating of Eggsy's heart monitor. "He is the strongest of us, and you know it. He is going to be fine. And when he wakes up, you'd better fix this mess, because I'll not watch the two of you fall apart, and I will never, repeat  _never,_ hide things from him for your sake again. I care about the lad too much. And I love you, Harry."

It makes both of them pause, before Harry glances up at Merlin who has come to stand beside Eggsy's bed, next to the chair that Harry is slumped elegantly in.

He reaches a hand out and cups Harry's shoulder, squeezing through the fabric of his suit jacket. "You're my dearest friend. I'll not stand idly by while you waste your life on etiquette and protocol while your future is lying right here." Merlin tips his jaw down at the little blond lying fast asleep before them, and when he lets go of Harry, it's with a tiny shake of his head before he turns on his heel and leaves.

His footsteps fade into the distance, drowned out by the steady beat of Eggsy's heart pulsing through the monitor. Harry lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, his shoulders falling forward and his head hanging down between the curve.

"I wish it were that simple. I  _want_ it to be that simple." He lifts his head, then reaches out and curls his fingers around Eggsy's hand, brushing his thumb against puckered scabs and silk-smooth flesh. "I promised I would never hurt you--that I would always, if in my power to do so, take care of you and protect you. And I..."

The sudden swell of heat in his throat forces Harry squeeze to his eyes shut against the ache, and he manages to stuff his free hand into his pocket while he rises to stand. He releases Eggsy's hand in favor of fussing with the medal on the long, smooth chain that he had given Eggsy so very, very long ago.

He had the chain repaired, the clasp clipped onto a new loop, and the medal hangs flat against his palm, glinting gold in the fluorescent light.

"A gentleman is nothing if he can't simply keep his word." Harry says firmly, running his thumb over the nearly perfect surface of the coin. There's a tiny scratch on the edge, more than likely from Eggsy clinking it against something a little too hard. Then Harry laughs dryly. "It seems the only thing I really can't protect you from is myself. I brought this upon you, Eggsy. I... I've hurt you with my carelessness. It seems for that, I've paid the price. I... I only hope you wake up so I can make it up to you. Eggsy, I... I will do whatever it takes."

With that, he clears his throat, closes his eye, and shakes the nerves out of his system.

When he opens his eye again, he leans forward and reaches his large hands beneath the curve of Eggsy's neck, taking the open chain with them. Harry clasps the necklace round his boy's throat, leaning back with the medal still in his palm. "...This is yours." He breaths, and it sounds pained. Before he loses his grip on his composure, Harry leans down and presses their foreheads together, cupping Eggsy's neck with one hand while he uses the other to prop his weight up so he's leaning over the beautiful, broken boy in the hospital bed.

"I'm so sorry, Eggsy..." He tilts his jaw up and--with zero hesitance--brushes his lips flush to Eggsy's forehead before he presses and holds a warm, lingering kiss there.

He squeezes his eye shut, holding his breath tight in his sore lungs, and stays there, willing the world to mend itself.

"...Harry..." Eggsy whimpers quietly, voice broken from disuse, and Harry jerks back instantly.

"Eggsy?"

There's another long pause, a tiny spike in Eggsy's heart rate, and Eggsy's fingers twitch on the bed sheets. Harry catches the movement with his good eye, quickly lifting his hand and taking Eggsy's in his own.

The grip that he receives is far stronger than he expected. Those artistic, slender fingers curl around his like little vices, powerful clamps, and Eggsy's eyes roll behind his lids, lashes fluttering on his cheeks.

"Mmm... Arry...?" Eggsy breaths, and his brows furrow up tight before he manages to crack one eye open a hairline fracture. When they both pry themselves open, he seems incredibly dazed, but he squeezes Harry's hand tighter and manages to look up at him, pupils blown. "Where..."

"You're at the manor, in the sick bay. You've been unconscious for six days straight, I--Eggsy, can you understand me?"

A tiny blink seems to be his reply, until Eggsy tries to shift, and his heart monitor starts racing. He whines, the sound tiny and broken, and the way he grabs onto Harry for support is beyond heart-wrenching.

"I... 'M sorry, Harry... Sorry."

"Don't apologize. You did a fine job."

"Shoulda told you be... Before I..." Eggsy lets his eyes drift closed, and a tiny smile touches his lips, despite the fact that the rest of his face can't seem to relax. "Love you..."

Harry blinks once. Leans a little closer. "I beg your pardon?" He all but whispers.

"You... Love you, Ha... Harry. Love you so damn m... much." Eggsy breaths quietly, and his heart rate is steadily dropping, dropping.

"I... I'm not sure I--"

"Don' leave me..."

"Eggsy?" Harry demands, shaking the younger boy's hand in his grasp.

But Eggsy's grip has gone limp, and the monitor evens out with the unbroken, steady beating of a slumbering heart.

Harry shakes his head, falling back into his seat without releasing Eggsy's slender fingers. There's a comforting quiet about the way that silence cannot swell when a heart monitor is right beside you, spelling out a strange, high-pitched symphony of life.

He wants to say something... Anything. But the peaceful look on Eggsy's face as a drug-addled sleep claims over his mind, he can't bear to try and wake the boy.

"Damn you. You stupid, stupid boy." He mutters, the smile breaking across his face distracting him from the tears running from his eye. "Damn you."

**

Eggsy's eyes open to a smooth, glowing ceiling another four days later.

It seems a little odd, that he's not buried in a mountain of rubble, dying somewhere in the mountainside of Romania...

His mouth tastes like stale oatmeal--and something else more foul--and his body feels like he's been tossed under a steam roller, re-inflated, then trampled by elephants, the reassembled.

Something is beeping beside him, and it's really fucking annoying. When Eggsy thinks that, it seems to beep louder and faster. It kind of hurts to have his eyes open, the light so subtle yet so bright, the weight of his lids almost too much for him to take.

"Eggsy?" A warm, incredibly familiar, high voice calls to him, and then there's a hand on his forehead, light and small in its weight. A feather-light whiff of perfume makes his chest swell, and he thinks he might smile a bit.

"...R-x." He mumbles, and his mouth feels dry and sewn shut, the fingers of his right hand dancing absently over his sheet.

"It's me, Eggsy; it's Roxy. I'm here." She tells him, and the realization that he's not alone makes his chest heave and his shoulders sag.

"Wh... Where 'm I?" He thinks he says, and when he lets his head fall to the side, Roxy is sitting beside him.

She's wearing a very unflattering t-shirt that hangs off one of her shoulders and, somehow, it looks flattering as hell on her. Her hair is in an incredibly precise ponytail, but her eyes are a little shadowy, her mouth not quite red.

"HQ. Sick bay. Don't fall asleep on me--somebody wants to see you." With that, she manages to multitask pulling out her phone and sending a text with one hand while the other clicks a button on the side of the bed.

Eggsy tries to sit up a little, but he's so exhausted. "Hhhhn." The name is weighty on his tongue, so it dies before he gets a chance to push it out.

Then Merlin is coming through his hospital door, a very bloated little pug draped over one arm. "Christ, lad. Finally got those pretty eyes open, aye?" Merlin says, his voice aiming for playful but falling short and crashing into heartfelt and relieved.

"Lynn... God, JB--there he is. There's my boy." Eggsy huffs, and when Merlin sets the pug down on Eggsy's feet, he whines, but remains there. He, in fact, curls up and nuzzles his head into the flat of Eggsy's bare, exposed foot. It's moist when he licks along his toes, but Eggsy realizes that his ankle gives a cry of protest to the pug's contact.

"Harry brought him in. After your accident, he was fetched right away." Roxy informs him with a smile.

"Eggsy, you're a little banged up. Can you stay awake long enough for me to--"Merlin is cut off when those big blue eyes lock onto the door, glittering like cerulean skyline.

"Harry." Eggsy rasps, and his voice sounds raw from disuse.

And Harry is there, standing in the doorway with a hand on the frame as if to steady himself, and he looks like he's happy enough to cry, bespoke suit and perfect hair and fuck it all.

It's too much.

Before Eggsy can say anything else, the heart monitor beside him is practically wailing out a drumbeat, and he blacks out.

Again.

**

 _"The difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated."_ Eliza Doolittle says almost crossly as Eggsy stirs out of his sleep.

His mouth cracks open, and it's a dry, horrible effort. His right arm feels like it weighs a thousand numb-tingling pounds. But, obviously, it does not, and when he lifts it, it flies up a little too easily and his fingers smack into his face, making him jump and snap his eyes open.

The hospital room is clearer in his vision than it ever has been before, and he can see that a flat screen is been mounted on the wall adjacent to his feet. Audrey looks so lovely, her dark hair all done up, winged eyeliner flawless, and she tilts her chin up with a manner of such uncut sass that Eggsy smiles, despite the fact he's just smacked himself in the face.

Not like anybody saw.

Fingers curl around his hand and pull it away from the prickles on his jaw, surprised his stubble is coming in so smoothly. "That's certainly a rude awakening." A rich timbre says beside him, and Eggsy's heart jumps and his head rolls to the side.

"Harry." He nearly moans. Well, it barely makes any sound, so it's more like a breathless, needy sigh.

Harry smiles at him--and it's oddly comforting and soft and very, very open in a way Eggsy's never seen--and squeezes his hand, turning it over in one hand so he can run his fingers across Eggsy's palm from heel to tips.

"Don't fall asleep on me just yet; please... I haven't seen you in ages." Harry says, tilting his head down so he can observe the webs riding along Eggsy's palm. His voice is so light, almost timid...

It makes the younger boy laugh. "Sorry... How long?" He asks quietly, his voice a bit hoarse.

His bed starts rising up, and the effort makes his waist bend and he feels like he's going to break in half. He whines, and Harry shushes him with a gentle touch on the forehead.

"Well, you woke up once when you got here. Then you woke up about ten days later. Roxy tried to contact me, but when I arrived, you fell unconscious again. Had JB looking after you in my stead though." Harry tells him, and he gestures down to the foot of the bed, making Eggsy tilt his chin up.

Sure enough, the pug is sitting there in a warm bundle, like he was the last time Eggsy fell asleep.

Then it dawns on him. "How long since that time?"

"Only two days. It seems you're recovering like a leap-frog. And, ever thankful we are, your face was not terrible harmed in the destruction." Harry says warmly, and he has a glass of water in his hand. "Care to try?" He asks with an arch of brows that pulls on his eyepatch.

Eggsy smacks his lips in an ungentlemanly manner, then nods, and licks a broad stripe across them.

Harry follows the action blatantly, unabashed, and Eggsy sees it this time. It's a little different from any time before.

A broad, warm hand cups the back of his neck, and the glass it cool when it presses his lips, but the water going down is barely more wintry than the air around them. Still, it feels so damn good going down, painting his dry throat, making his tongue feel like silk and his gut roll a little at being filled.

When he moves his elbow, the IV in his arm pinches the barest bit. "Wot..." He gasps, and a droplet of water clings to the plush pillow of his bottom lip. "Wot they got me on anyhow?"

"Saline. A bit of morphine. Did you know you were allergic to everything ending in  _cillin?" H_ arry says it with the most adorable, curious face. "As for the mercury poisoning, they gave you extensive treatment with dimercaprol. Neostigmine was also involved, and you were very, very sick for a while." Harry says softly, then sets the glass down and falls back into his seat, sprawling out with an impressive amount of grace.

"Dimer--stigmine...? I wos sick? I mean--hey, wot in Christ are you wearin'?" Eggsy says, examining his bandaged left hand, feeling the ache in every single nerve, every muscle, all the agony. Then he looks down at Harry sitting beside him.

His long legs are crossed, a cup of tea perched proudly between his fingers, and he is  _not_ wearing a bespoke suit in pinstripe navy.

"Harry are... Are you wearin'  _jeans??"_ Eggsy blurts.

The look Harry gives him is priceless, brows flat, mouth set. "Ever the observant one, Eggsy."

And he is. By god, he's wearing a pair of nearly black-blue jeans with white-washed knees and a rumpled, black dress flannel over a burgundy T. A fucking  _t-shirt?_

"Wot the... Wow." Eggsy laughs.

"Not sure how to take that." Harry says, tilting his chin down and reaching up to scrub a hand against the underside of his jaw. "At any rate, these clothes were only temporary, but it seems I've exhausted my suit resources here at HQ, so I had to dredge through the waves of despair to find some of my less... Refined clothes. I sent Samantha off to have my suits cleaned and mended at the Tailor's. I was rather hoping you wouldn't have to see me slumming it, but I was not going to leave your side for the sake of some fine, virgin wool and a pressed tie."

The sentiment alone makes Eggsy think his heart is caving in. Combined with the sight before him? It's maddening. Harry's hair even looks a little unkempt, fallen down over his good eye as if he can't be bothered to brush it back. The man never goes anywhere unless he's dressed to the nines, yet he's sitting at Eggsy's bedside looking like the most ungodly sexually frustrating domestic bloke Eggsy has ever seen simply because he  _didn't_ want to leave Eggsy's side??. So unfair, how Harry is never not-sexy.

Eggsy whistles low, and the effort it takes makes him wheeze and gasp for a minute after. "I mean... I've never seen you dressed down. Like this. It's..." He breaks off, clearing his throat and letting his head drop back so he can look at the TV. "Nice."

"Nice? Just nice?"

Eggsy snorts, and the effort makes him wince and tense up. "Nothing about you is  _just nice, Harry Hart."_ He says playfully, and he turns his face so he can see Harry sitting beside him again.

A long heartbeat stretches between them, before Eggsy lifts the fingers of his right hand, fitting them against the little rail of his bed.

Harry grins, and laces them together.

"You're perfect." Eggsy says sleepily, closing his eyes. Then he grins, wiggling his toes, though it kind of hurts. "Loverly, you are... Just loverly."

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes Harry. "Don't you want to know what happened to you? Or at least to count the number of bones you've broken?" Harry says, but his voice is a little distant, too warm to be real anymore.

"Not right now..." Eggsy replies, and his hand starts to feel distantly heavy in Harry's grasp. "Jus... Jus stay right there. I'll... 'll wake up in a min."

"Of course you will." Harry teases, and brushes his knuckles across the stretched skin healing on Eggsy's own.

Eggsy means to get up again, but he doesn't even get the chance to hear,  _"Eliza, where the devil are my slippers?"_

Harry, however, is still there, and he hears it just fine, smiling down at Eggsy with a love uncut.

**

It's a quiet morning about two weeks after the incident in Romania when Eggsy wakes up. When he  _really wakes up._

"Rox?" He says absently when he finds his voice, and at the side of his bed, the girl has her arms folded on the mattress, her head resting on them.

She gasps, lifting her head with a spluttering sound. "E... Eggsy? You're awake, love." She says brightly, and when she sits up, there's a tiny crease line on her cheek from lying on her corduroy sleeve. "My gosh... We haven't seen you in a day."

"Is that code for a week?"

"No, a day. You woke up in cuts, I think. Uhm, six days, four, two, one. Like some weird body clock countdown." She grins, reaching out to cup his cheek. "How do you feel? You look incredibly alert."

"I... I feel alert. And thirsty. Can I sit up?" Eggsy asks, and the bed starts lifting, bending him at the waist. God, but fuck, that hurts. "Okay... Thirsty."

At that, Roxy reaches for the bedside table next to his shoulder and lifts a tall, stormy-gray porcelain mug. "It's still warm. Harry should be back soon, but I'll text him and Merlin, just in case. Can you hold it?"

Eggsy lifts his right hand and takes the handle, and with his left--still bandaged to hell--he cups the bottom of the mug for extra support. "How'd the mission go? Seein' as you got out alright."

"How professional of you, Galahad." Roxy quips. "It went very, very well. The Krums detained the Drakovs, after your extraction, the weapons vault and art chambers were cleaned out. You'll be debriefed as soon as you can last long enough to explain why you blew up the chamber while you were still in it. Other than that, a smooth success." She nods her head like a bow.

"Great. Jus great." He brings the sweet smelling liquid to his mouth without even looking at it, presses his lips to the warm mug rim, and takes a long sip.

The drink sloshes in his gut, paints his mouth and throat, and Eggsy's eyes snap open, brows shooting up into the mess of his bangs. "The fuck is this?"

Roxy looks like she's been hit in the head with a wad of paper. "...Steamed soy milk?"

"...Soy milk?"

"Or maybe it's almond. The one that's better for you. Harry brought it for you, but he got called away in the middle of the movie." With that, she tips her chin to the screen, and Eggsy catches sight of what he's pretty sure is  _Trading Places._

"...Soy milk?"

"Yes; he said he hoped you'd be waking up today, and that you'd be thirsty. But he knew that your tea--wet sugar, he called it--would just upset your stomach. He said this was better for you." Roxy continues to explain, and at the foot of the bed, JB picks his head up.

Eggsy looks down at the steamy liquid, soft honeyed-white and a tiny bit frothy. "...Soy milk, huh?" He says again, then takes another sip. God, it's so good for being something so simple. He almost laughs. "Good shit."

"Ah, good to see you awake, Galahad." Merlin's drawling Scottish calls from the door as he strides into the room.

"Merlin. Good to see you, too." Eggsy says honestly, his voice fuzzed up with warmth.

Harry grins behind his glasses and clipboard. He taps his pen along the line of his own jaw. "Like the scruff. Suits you far better than when Harry was wearing his peach fuzz. Makes you look grown up."

"Fanks, bruv." Another drink.

Wow, why is it so good?

"So... It's been how many days?"

"Today will be the thirteenth. You're doing remarkably well, but, obviously, medicine and fiery will only goes so far." Merlin tells him, and then Roxy's hand slaps him upside the head.

His blond feathers flip errantly out of place, and Eggsy jolts so hard his entire body cries in protest. "OW! Wot the hell, Rox? You bloody mad?"

"Oh, you're damn right, I'm mad. A gunshot wound that took four hours of surgery to fix, three fractured ribs, one broken clean in half, a fractured femur, two broken fingers that you're lucky they didn't have to splint, a sprained ankle, a broken toe, one completely destroyed hand that took another  _two hour surgery to save,_ and an insane amount of mercury in your blood that could have killed you within hours had it not been so conveniently secluded to your hand when a rock pinned your arm and prevented severe blood flow. You were supposed to step on it, not bust the damn thing in your hand. What part of 'detonator filled with mercury and fuses' did you not get? Jesus  _Christ,_ Eggsy, we were so worried about you!!" The girl explains, and JB gives a wet, snorty bark of agreement at Eggsy's feet.

"...So you hit me?"

She slaps him again.

"That's enough battering the patient, Lancelot. I'd say Eggsy is doing quite well. For the first time in almost two weeks, he seems to be fully alert, levels holding steady, and he can take a hit to the head." Merlin says almost proudly, and he jots something down before he thumps his finger against a glass tube that is hovering between Eggsy's IV drip bag and the probe in his vein. "Ah, here's this for you." He says, plucking from his pocket a tiny glass bottle. Inside is a bullet, the shade of tarnished silver, no bigger than a thumbnail. "Magtech, swaged; probably a personal handgun. Took three hours to get this out of you." When he tosses it, Eggsy rests his mug on his sore tummy and catches it easily.

He laughs, eyeing the bullet in his palm. "That is sick."

"You were. Very." Roxy says.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Mostly hungry." Eggsy says honestly, but he's also becoming vaguely interested in the plot that is unfolding on the screen across from him. How is this supposed to work? How do you not get caught?

Merlin and Roxy share a laugh. "There's our Eggsy." The other knight says, and she leans forward to kiss his cheek. "You know what? I like the stubble, too. It's incredibly attractive on you." She says, brushing her fingers along the light dip in his chin. "Very soft. Barely a shadow, really. But so handsome. Merlin, isn't he just quite handsome?"

"Quite." Merlin says with an eyeroll.

"Don' patronize me. I been unconscious for thirteen days." He reminds her, then takes another long swig of his steamed milk. "And wot's the deal with the  _chav becomes sav marathon?"_

"Harry's idea." Merlin tuts, petting JB's head affectionately.

"What was my idea?" Said king's voice calls from the doorway, and all four of them turn to look at him.

JB barks happily, and hops off the bed with minimal scuffling, prancing over to Harry like he owns the place. "Lynn? It would seem your little friend needs you." He says gracefully, and Merlin sighs.

"Christ almighty, don't you start with that."

Eggsy titters loudly, and his ribs want him dead for it, but the smile Harry gives him in return is quite amazing.

Roxy pats her thigh and JB comes trotting over to her. "What's amatter, boy? Need Lynn to take you to the lou?"

He sneezes his ascent, then pads over to Merlin.

"Well, Lynn?" Eggsy offers, and it earns him a glare like hell-fire from those slate-gray eyes.

"Next time, it'll be you, boy." He growls, poking Eggsy in the foot with his pen.

"Ow! Sprained ankle, yeah?"

"It's your other ankle." Harry replies dryly, but he exits the room with JB in tow anyhow. "Don't let these children pull you into their childish ranks, Harry."

"Of course not, Lynn. Wouldn't dream of it." Harry says, patting Merlin on the shoulder as he leaves.

"Sod off, the lot of you."

Roxy and Eggsy laugh a little harder at that, until Eggsy is whimpering his descent into quiet calm once again.

"How's your milk?" Harry asks as he approaches the bed with a tiny smile that seems a bit guarded, compared to the last time Eggsy remembers seeing him.

"'S damn good, mate. I want this every day." He rubs the back of his hand against his mouth and grimaces. "Damn, my face is real scratchy. Rox, you don' actually fink it looks good, do ya?"

"Would I lie? Harry, doesn't Eggsy look good with a bit of fur on his face?" She teases.

"Hey now."

Harry strides over to the other side of Eggsy's bed, looming over him and raking his face with a probing glance. He juts his bottom lip out in the tiniest pout, then lifts a hand. The way he cups Eggsy's jaw would seem innocent enough to anyone but the two of them, but Eggsy feels the way Harry's fingertips press his pulse, his thumb dragging the pillow of his mouth open softly. His palm on Eggsy's stubble creates a quiet scraping sound, and it sends stimulating waves down into the pit of Eggsy's gut, making his throat close.

Then Harry shakes his head. "A bit of rough is fine. But Eggsy doesn't need the fur, Lancelot. The shadow distracts from the blue of his eyes." He glances from Roxy back to Eggsy a moment later to scan his face. "Though it does give the line of your jaw some depth. An argument can be made for the beard, but I, myself, do not prefer it on you."

It makes Eggsy blush, and when Harry lets go of him in favor of turning to have a disputable argument with Roxy about how many actors look good with facial hair, Eggsy just stares up at him in awe.

They're in a conversation deep enough that Roxy doesn't notice the way Harry has reached down between the rail bars to brush his fingertips absently along Eggsy's bare left wrist. He just keeps stroking tiny arch patterns across the veins and bones beneath Eggsy's flesh, barely brushing the edges of gauze wrapped tight about his mangled hand, and it makes Eggsy feel lightheaded and sleepy and... Loved.

"Oh, Eggsy!" Merlin calls, suddenly in the doorframe again. "You'd best call your mother so she can stop harassing Arthur. It'd be much appreciated."

He's gone again.

"My mum?" Eggsy asks, and Harry presses his fingers down firmly against Eggsy's pulse.

"Yes... I took the liberty of lifting a few of our old protocals. It rather upset everyone around here for a few days before they realized what it meant for them." Harry glances at Roxy, and she smiles broadly.

"A Kingsman knight may tell any friends or family members over the age of twenty of their position and job description here at Kingsman, with the utmost decency and discretion. Should the friend or family member be caught releasing any information about the knight to unsavory parties, that friend or family member will be... Eliminated." Roxy explains. "This way, husbands won't have to lie to their wives, eventually, parents won't have to lie to their children, and you don't have to lie to your mother. She also knows about your father."

Eggsy's blood goes cold. "My..."

"Lancelot, a moment, if you would?" Harry says, and Roxy nods, kisses Eggsy's cheek again, and leaves the room. The door clicks shut behind her.

The quiet is broken only by Eddie Murphy's rambling fast talk and Eggsy's heart rate, until Harry walks around the bed and sits in his usual seat, where Roxy had just been. "Eggsy, I'm sure you're familiar with all of the protocol here at Kingsman."

"You vetoed one of the oldest, most strict rules in the book..." The knight says quietly.

"Yes."

" _Why?"_ Don't say it was for me, Eggsy thinks, don't say you did this for me.

"Because I'm tired of lying to everyone. Eggsy, these men are good men--the noblest, bravest, smartest men I know. Now, the ones who are lucky enough to have families? They don't have to hide anymore. But, of course, it's something like a 'don't ask don't tell' policy. You don't have to tell your wife you shot a false prime minister and took on a twenty-man fire fight by yourself. But should you want to? You may. So long as your wife doesn't sell your secrets to her book club girlfriends." Harry explains. "The point is, I took it upon myself to do something I don't do often."

"And wos that?" Eggsy asks a little dryly.

Harry looks him in the eye, whiskey gaze burning. "Trust."

Eggsy is a little taken aback by that, and he blinks and licks his lips, longing for something he's not sure exists.

Then when Harry takes his hand in both of his, folding it up and holding it close enough to his mouth that he can feel his caraway mint-scented breath, Eggsy knows that's it.

"I told her about your father... I told her what a brave, incredible, positively beautiful man he was, and I told her that it was my fault he died." Harry smiles softly when he says that. "She slapped me."

"Wot?"

"Articulate, Eggsy." Harry teases.

He growls. "Fuckin... She hit you?"

"Yes, right across the cheek. She has an incredibly powerful arm, I tell you. I see where you get your fire. With parents like Lee and Michelle Unwin, you were born to be a damn firework." Harry tells him, brushing his thumb across Eggsy's fingertips.

Eggsy laughs. "Guess you deserved that, huh?"

"I damn well did. But... Then she cried a bit, and said she was glad to know. Thanked me, even. I suppose, after all this time, closure is something she sorely needed."

Eggsy nods. "Yah... Bet that felt good."

"...I told her about your accident, and that you were holding out well and doing a miraculous job staying alive. She slapped me again. It was a long argument about how I was going to cost her both of her beautiful men, and I told her..." Harry clears his throat. "Well, I gave her enough details. She told me to have you call when you woke."

"And thas it? That easy, huh?"

"I'm Arthur. Of course, it was that easy."

"Well, everythin's easy for you, innit?" Eggsy says a little brashly, and when he looks back up at Harry, Harry's smile has vanished.

A tiny kiss is pressed to Eggsy's fingertips, one that makes his heart riot in the cage of his ribs, and Harry squeezes his eyes shut and ducks his head. "...Not everything." His voice drops, low and smooth, full of emotion Eggsy can't understand. He wants to question it, but Harry presses on. "Call your mother, please. She's been very worried, and I'd like to not be slapped again."

With that, Harry releases Eggsy's hand, rises from his seat, and strolls out of the room.

Roxy returns with Eggsy's cell phone and a smile, taking his empty mug from the table. "I can get more, if you like?"

Eggsy closes his eyes and drops his head against his pillow. He holds his hand out for the phone. "Jus leave me here to die."

"Not gonna happen, Galahad. We're in this together, for better or worse."

"Sounds like we're married." Eggsy teases as he selects his mother number from the touch screen.

Roxy grins like a fox. "Not if you marry Harry first." She winks, and when she turns, her ponytail whips her shoulders. "Click the green button when I can come back!" She waggles her fingers at him, and Eggsy is gawking at her as she goes.

The dial tone ends before Eggsy realizes.  _"Eggsy? Jesus Christ, Eggsy? My boy, are you alright?!"_ His mother's voice snaps, and Eggsy jolts and presses the phone firmly to his ear.

"Mum. Mum, I'm here... 'm alright." He says warmly, and the relieved sob that it gets him makes his heart rip open.

 _"Oh, my baby boy. Oh, I was so worried--I didn't want to believe that posh arsehole. Are you really a spy, my love? My goodness, I can't believe--"_ his mother rambles on and on, and Eggsy lays his head back and smiles.

"I'm fine, mum. I..." He pauses, a cold touch on his chest drawing his attention downward, and he frames the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can reach into the white dressing gown they have him wearing.

His medal hangs round his neck, the familiar weight of it resting on his palm when he plucks it out of the collar. A tiny, breathless laugh falls from his lips, and his entire body feels giddy and light with it.

He snickers, glancing out the open door to see Harry paused in the hall talking to a nurse. He combs his fingers through his hair, one hand tucked into his slack pockets, and he's smiling politely at something she's saying.

As if he feels Eggsy's gaze, he glances up through the open gap of the doorway. His smile broadens, something about it shifting the color of his eye and the weight of his shoulders, and it practically knocks Eggsy on his face. 

Eggsy smiles back. Harry only ever smiles at him like that, and it fills him with a rising tidal wave of pride and want that he thought he had forgotten. That he thought he had given up.

But Eggsy Unwin was not so easily defeated.

"I'm great. I... I'm home."

**

The healing process is a bitch.

Eggsy will not be released until he is one-hundred percent better. After his last stint getting injured, he pulled a parkour video instead of staying home to rest. He'd only further damaged the ripped muscle in his arm, and Merlin would not be having that again.

So, instead of being allowed to be released into the wild once he could walk and his ribs were in a lesser state of injury, Eggsy still remained at HQ.

The closest thing he gets to escape are long walks on the grounds with JB, and that's only after he's well enough to even walk. Plus, it's getting colder. The passing of time rolling by right under his nose.

He is allowed to leave the sick bay after a month's stay, and stays in one of the on-campus rooms for another two and a half. It's not much, but it allows him privacy while he heals, reads, showers, and sleeps.

And shaves, as well. Shortly after he regains his ability to hobble to the bathroom without company, as a matter of fact, Eggsy knows the dark line of his incomplete scruff has to go. Doesn't matter how Roxy and Merlin care for it. The stubble must go. After he shaves, Harry brazenly tucks his hand under Eggsy's chin and brushes his fingers along the boy's jaw and cheek--in front of all the new recruits, because, god, Eggsy wanted to get out of his room for a bit and that was where Harry happened to be. He smirks pleasantly, then pats Eggsy on the cheek, tucks his hands into his pockets, and strolls down the hall after Merlin and the new trainees with all the regality of a lion.

He also gives himself a hacking haircut that leaves his feathered locks flippant and gloriously soft, because he was due for one, and without his own proper styling oil--and better company than Roxy and JB--, he can't be arsed to comb his hair and wear suits. Trackies, jeans, and Ts suit him just fine for his medical stay at HQ.

When they are finally able to unwrap his hand, the scars that mottle his palm are long, thin, and look like strikes of lightning. It's nearly as impressive as his side. He likes standing in front of the mirror, staring down at the wicked tear of flesh that has nearly healed over by the time they let him un-bandage his waist. It looks like a firework bursting in the sky, a perfect spark of red that--Merlin assures him--will turn white as snow against the golden sinew of his flesh. When he touches it, he feels the world shake around him just a smidge.

Other than that, the rest of his wounds heal rapidly. The small knicks and cuts on his flesh don't scar, and his broken bones are all so close together that every fracture seals fast, and the sprain even faster. It's the one pesky rib that Merlin refuses to release him for.

However, the faster he heals, the less pain meds he needs. And once the pain medication is no longer a hassle, his sleep is less heavy, and begins ending in  _bang once more._

Harry is there to hold him through it, and each and every morning, he wakes up and flies into Harry's arms. It's a painfully sweet kind of release, being able to let himself be held, coddled, smiling against the warmth of Harry's neck while he regains his composure and bravery once more. He only asks Harry what he's doing there the first time. His response is that he 'simply comes into the office earlier than usual as of late'. Eggsy can only imagine why.

It becomes very quickly apparent to Eggsy that something has changed between Harry and himself. It's not like it was before, but it's somehow more than that. He still holds his bearings around everyone else, still appears the stone wall of polite indifference when counseling the new initiates.

But for Eggsy? He's changed. He's warmer than before, his smiles last longer, and he's more inclined to touch Eggsy and be close to him whenever he feels like it. It's simple things, really. Laughing a little too long when Eggsy says something funny, grinning at him when someone else is talking to Harry before Harry can correct himself, commenting on Eggsy's freshly shorn hair as he runs his fingers through it and sets the bangs on end. Once, he even kisses the top of Eggsy's head, pressing his lips to his hair and holding there while Eggsy is stifling his gasps after a night terror.

It's... Nice. It's not even confusing, is the problem. Eggsy doesn't know when they started calling one another by their first names--well, maybe it was when he was giving his last words--but it feels so good to not have to question it. He never once feels the need.

All the other knights visit him between missions, aside from Bors, who fell in combat somewhere in northern China, though not before he managed to send his secure files back to HQ. The new recruits that are brought in are to fill his position, though Harry, Eggsy, and Degore do not submit their own, are for his replacement. The old Britt says manner of choice does not come easily, or something about how Kingsmen are few and far between of caliber and some other nonsense.

Eggsy can't submit a choice because he's been trapped at HQ.

Harry? Harry says nothing on the matter.

Yes, they all visit. Tristan brings his brash Irish storytelling, Percival wisdom and constant servings of tea, Gawain a few sturdy nods, Hector comes along and never shuts up.

Even Kay comes once, when Roxy is holding Eggsy's feet down so he can do sit-ups on the cold wood of his floor. He mumbles, mostly, and offers Eggsy the peaceful gift of a hand-carved dagger from his latest trip to Mozambique. Eggsy takes it with a grin, admiring the steel curve of the blade and the soft suede lacing around the handle. His thank you is accepted with a noncommittal hand wave and a vague noise of pleasure.

He talks to his mother often, promising that as soon as his overbearing Scottish Handler allows him to leave, he'll go home so he can see her and Daisy.

It's a bitch, yes, but heal Eggsy does.

It's one fine day early in December when Merlin decides Eggsy is ready to be released into the wild.

He's got the young knight down in the gym--because that's there the remaining five are--on the crossfit rings, and Eggsy's been holding himself in a perfectly straight line with his fists at his sides for a good five minutes straight.

"Magnificent, Galahad." Merlin says, jotting something down on his clipboard. "Now then... If you're ready? The L-tuck."

Eggsy huffs loudly, but tenses the muscles in his core, curls his toes, and brings his legs up slowly so it's as if he's sitting mid-air. When he's bent like an L, Merlin taps the underside of his left knee. "Bend." He commands, and Eggsy straightens the leg out even further. "There we are. How does your stomach feel?"

"Piss off."

"No pulling in your gun wound? Any ache in your rib?"

Eggsy makes a noncommittal noise, dipping his head so his bangs fall in his eyes.

"If I may inquire, Eggsy, you can do the splits per your gymnastics training--can you not?" Merlin says almost innocently, but once the words are out, Eggsy lets out a loud breath through his nose before he flexes and strains, bringing the rings down between his legs even as he's spreading them wide in the air. His arms don't give, but his stomach quivers. "There we are. That's impressive. Dismount; without too much flare, if you would."

Eggsy snickers breathlessly, but he manages to flip completely upside down, lets his shoulders roll to support his weight, and then folds out and lands on his feet with a small thud. His medal thunks against his collar bones.

"Stop slacking, Trevor. I can see you. And Gregory, add another ten pounds to your weights. I can't see you struggling." Merlin snaps, turning a paper over so he can scratch something down onto his clipboard.

"So gentle, Merlin. So patient." Eggsy teases, pulling the bandages from around his hands loose so he can pull them off. "How'd I do?"

"Your cardio is excellent, your reflex testing flawless, your weight training will be bumped up in the following weeks, but you can obviously handle yourself without breaking anything again." Merlin tells him, then swats his sweaty abs with the back of his hand. "As far as I'm concerned? You're free to go home until your next assignment. You're also, by the way, clear for assignment acceptance once again."

"Shut up." Eggsy blurts. "You mean it? 'm free?" He grins.

"For now. Do try to have a good,  _safe_ holiday, Eggsy." Merlin tells him, smiling. "It is almost Christmas, after all."

"My god... You're right! Oh, mum'll be so happy! I've got, wot... Two weeks?"

"Aye, lad."

"Wow. Time just flies, donnit?"

A scream erupts beyond them.

"That is does. Now, if you'll excuse me? I have an initiate who seems to have broken something." Merlin says dryly, as if it is a terrible inconvenience.

"Don' be too hard on 'em, Merlin." Eggsy says, picking up his damp towel to dry off his face and chest.

"Have a good night, Galahad."

Eggsy gathers up his t-shirt--long since discarded and too sweaty for wear--and water bottle, turning and heading for the gymnasium door barefoot. He pads through most of HQ without seeing another soul, and before he realizes it, he finds himself standing before the doors of Harry's office.

He knocks.

Odd.

What brought him here?

"Yes?" Harry's voice calls, and Eggsy swallows around the excitement bubbling in his throat, bursting up from the flutter of his tummy.

"It's me, Harry." He says excitedly.

"Oh, Eggsy. Come in." Harry says, and Eggsy pushes the door open and steps through. Harry moves to stand from his chair, lying a hand on the edge of his desk and leaning against it lightly. He looks as if he's going to say something else before he gives Eggsy a once over. "Well... Aren't you dressed sharply." Harry deadpans.

"Oh, shove off. I wos jus in the gym wif Merlin. I've finally been discharged." He says with a grin, and he hugs his water bottle and shirt to his chest because, what the hell, he feels oddly vulnerable being this naked in Harry's presence all of a sudden.

It's like Harry can see the quiver in his tired muscles, count the droplets of sweat still trying to mist his flesh.

"A free man again, are you?"

"Free as a bird."

"Heading home just yet?"

He shakes his head. "Go'a get my stuff and JB, of course. Might do a bit ov shoppin'. Didn' realize Christmas was already here. You lose track ov time, bein' a Kingsman. Is that normal?"

Harry smiles softly, looks down at whatever kind of paperwork he'd been filling out. "Unfortunately so. But I'm sure your mother and Daisy will be glad to have you home in time for presents."

"Thas right." Eggsy all but giggles. He digs his toe into the plush fabric of the carpet, thinking about his mother and sister. "It'll be nice to see them again... To get the heck outta here. To sleep in a bed thas big enough for my feet."

Harry laughs quietly, and the closeness of it makes Eggsy start. He looks up, and Harry is right there, looming over him with one hand in his jacket pocket, the other reaching out to gently take Eggsy's scarred-up hand in his grasp.

"Dinner."

"Wot?" Blue eyes wide, Eggsy's quite suddenly taken aback.

"Articulate, Eggsy."

"...Come again?" The young knight replies dryly.

Harry smiles. "Dinner. I'm taking you out tonight. Be at the shuttle at eight o-clock sharp. And leave JB here; I'll arrange for his transport home." With that, Harry lifts his hand and very softly brushes his fingers against the medal hanging around Eggsy's throat, barely touching his skin. "Dress nicely."

"I always dress nicely." Eggsy snorts, but the touch leaves him feeling a little weak.

Harry's gaze softens, the smile on his lips broadening. "For me, Eggsy."

And the tenderness of his voice makes Eggsy's cheeks warm, and he ducks his head and smiles stupidly down at his bare toes. "Yes, Harry."

Fingers tuck under his chin, and Eggsy's gaze is drawn up to Harry's face. Eggsy gulps, and Harry follows the action of his throat. "Make sure you wear a coat. It's supposed to snow tonight."

"It was supposed to snow three nights ago." Eggsy retorts, but he can't manage to be snarky when he's fighting to focus on not staring at Harry's mouth.

"For me?" Harry says again.

Fuck.

"Yes, Harry." Eggsy all but pants, and then Harry's hand is gone and he's taking a step back.

"Good then. Eight o'clock sharp. Don't forget. You have two hours." With that, he turns on his heel and strides back to his desk. When he sits down behind it, the smile that is caught on his lips draws curiosity and delight to Eggsy's heart.

He snickers, shaking his head before he turns and strolls out of the office.

Harry's burning gaze follows the line of his bare back all the way.

Eggsy's a little overzealous in his leaving. He sends Roxy a text, because she's in Brazil, or someplace very warm and green, that he'll be home free in a few hours. She texts back that she's incredibly happy he'll see his family for Christmas, reminds him to get her something nice, and then informs him that her mark is a god-awful dancer with a bad comb-over who makes her miss Eggsy like crazy.

He also tells her of his date with Harry.

Well, he doesn't use the word date, but Roxy throws it out there and tells Eggsy to wear his cologne further back on his throat so that Harry doesn't get a mouthful of pheromones when he goes in to suckle hickies along his flesh. She also tells him to make sure he washes up thoroughly.

He tells her it's not funny, and that he won't be texting her again for the remainder of the evening.

JB lays placid across the foot of Eggsy's bed as the boy showers, shaves, and combs his hair. He managed to convince Merlin to have a bottle of his favorite styling oil and cologne brought to HQ, though it seems that with the way he cut it for ease of styling through his healing process, it doesn't lye quite flat enough at first. He wants to look amazing... But he's not sure why.

He--not for Roxy's irritating comment--rubs a spot of his cologne on behind his ears, then dabs a bit on his fingertips and touches the collar of his shirt. There's nothing wrong with smelling nice, he tells himself.

He changes three times--snapping quick photos of himself with the lens in his glasses to compare--before he curses and plops onto the bed.

"It's not a date!" He exclaims, and JB's ears prick up and he licks his snout expectantly. " _Hrruuuugh."_ Eggsy moans, then climbs off the bed and attempts it once more. This time, it's a lot easier.

He forgoes wearing a tie, but buttons up a storm gray dress shirt and tugs on a rather sharp black jacket that buttons snugly at the dip of his waist with a felt button. He clips his cuff links into place and tugs on the length of his sleeves. When he does a little turn, he loves how his slacks hug his ass, and how his jacket tucks against the small of his back and the broad of his shoulders.

"I look sharp, JB?" He asks, then turns and holds his arms out, presenting himself to the dog with a bit of flare.

The pug snorts, licks his squished mouth, then grins as he pants, as if he's giving Eggsy his approval.

"You're aces, JB. Jus aces." Eggsy laughs, then turns back to the mirror and thinks maybe he  _should wear a tie. "_ Hang on... Which one you think looks betta, mate?" He says, and he holds up a long slip of dark navy with red stripes--classic Kingsman--and a scarlet thing that looks like a splash of blood across his chest.

JB barks twice, and Eggsy holds the scarlet out and examines it. "You sure? Thas not too... I dunno, brash? Brash? Thas the word, innit? Or... I mean, am I gonna look like a harlot?"

The pug-nosed pup shakes his head so hard his ears sound like they're clapping.

"Yous the boss." Eggsy shrugs, then gets to work wrapping the tie about his throat and forming a Winsor. "I think I look too stuffy. I mean, he says dinner, but... Wot does that even mean?"

JB sniffles, then whines loudly through a yawn.

"Hm. Got a point there. I'm stressin' too much. I mean, it's Harry. It's jus Harry, it's..." He trails off, spinning back to look at himself in the mirror.

There's a long minute where he really just stands there looking at himself. With a tiny breath, Eggsy removes his glasses and sets them on the bed behind him gently. When he looks back in the mirror, he takes his hand--the left one, scarred like a storm--and rakes it through his hair, completely ruining the perfection of his side-swept part.

He gets this odd combination of chic and feathers, with smooth sides and a coiffed front, and Eggsy finds he really quite likes the look. It especially looks good with how his hair isn't a short as it was when he was younger, yet it's not as long as his usual Galahad mane.

It's... Great. Just fantastic.

He grins at himself, laughing with a little too much giddy spark as he folds a scarlet pocket square and tucks it into his breast.

He stuffs the rest of his things into his bag, sits on the bed to lace up his Oxfords, and then drapes his most beautiful--again, courtesy of Merlin, the governor--double-breasted, black, virgin wool trench coat over his arm.

He glances down at his Bremont watch just in time to see the minute hand click over on 7:55.

"There we are then. Well? I'm off, JB. See you later. Be good for whoever takes you home." Eggsy says, tossing him a wink. "Love ya, bruv."

A 'boof' is his reply, and Eggsy strolls out of the room and down through the halls.

HQ is rather quiet tonight, aside from the occasional secretary strolling through an elevator and Hector and Gawain in one of the main foyers before the shuttle.

"Oi! Galahaaaad; got a hot date tonight, lad?" The large Scottsman says with enthusiasm, hands tucked into the pockets of his khaki slacks as he rocks back on his Brogues.

Gawain waves him off. "Don't listen to him, Gal. He's been drinking."

"Oh, and you 'aven't, mate? C'mon, boy--tell us. Who's the lucky gal you're lookin so sharp for?" The red-head asks again, and he scratches his thick, wiry beard in interest. "Maybe Lancelot, eh? No, she's in South America."

Eggsy rolls his eyes, and Gawain claps him on the shoulder. "You run along now, Galahad. I'll handle this old Brogue."

"You couldn't handle me if you had another pair, mate." The older knight practically guffaws, and Eggsy slips away while he has the chance.

By the time he gets to the shuttle, it's 8:01, and he would curse at himself if when he arrived at the shuttle Harry were already there waiting...

But he's not.

Eggsy feels like he's going to be swept-up in the blizzard of hell freezing over.

Harry Hart said eight o'clock sharp, and he's bluntly late.

For a minute, Eggsy thinks he's been duped, been had, bamboozled. Why in god's name would Harry Hart want to take him to dinner anyhow? He was probably sitting in the hub with Merlin laughing at the baffled expression of shocked hurt on Eggsy's face.

Then another minute passes, and when the broad white doors swing open behind him, Eggsy twists around and sees Harry in their empty space, perfect and flawless and so beautiful.

His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose with great balance, his hair glamorously combed, a glorious pitch-black bespoke suit hugging his frame. He's not wearing a tie, the starched white of his dress shirt unbuttoned around his throat and hugging his wrists. He has his own morning-gray trench draped over his arm, and when he looks up and sees Eggsy, his mouth actually falls open.

"You..."

"You're late." Eggsy says easily, cocking his head to the side and clicking his heels together.

Harry laughs breathlessly, taken aback, before he strides forward and reaches out to straighten Eggsy's dazzling scarlet tie. "...You're stunning."

"Huh? Wot you tryna pull, Hart?" Eggsy shoots back, taking a step away, and Harry drops his gaze down to his feet and shakes his head.

"You still haven't seen  _Pretty Woman_ then. I could have sworn you were awake for some of that. I'm sorry I was late--got caught signing off new recruit paperwork in the hall. Another one gone. As for the movie, I thought we were going to have an exchange of lines." Harry says with a smile, but he shrugs it off and presses the button that opens the shuttle doors. "We'll remedy that later."

"That a promise?" Eggsy says, still a little baffled and laughing as Harry presses a hand to the small of his back.

"I hope so." He ushers Eggsy into the car and then climbs in after him.

"Where we goin', anyway?"

Harry smiles. "It's a surprise." He tells him.

**

"No. No way in hell are we eatin' here." Eggsy says, crossing his arms as Harry nearly drags him out of the car.

They're parked on a misty street somewhere in Soho, the sky rolling with silver highlights and rich golden warmth, Eggsy thinks, and he knows for a fact that restaurants in Soho are not exactly penny-a-pop burger joints.

"Eggsy, if you refuse me again, I will knock you unconscious and set you in the chair across from me while I enjoy my meal, or you can walk yourself in there yourself and pretend to be happy in my company." Harry says dryly, his breath fogging in the evening air.

"Harry, this place is four stars."

"Yes, I was just upset even my connections couldn't get me a reservation at  _Les Stellalune o_ n such short notice." Harry says as if deeply troubled.

Eggsy groans loudly. "I cannot go in there. I'm not gonna let you buy me a quarter sized steak with half your wallet."

"I promise, the food portions are adequate for the price. Now, come along." A hand wraps around Eggsy's wrist, tugging briskly.

"Harry!" Eggsy snaps, and when Harry stops, Eggsy means to say something else... But then a snowflake lands on his nose, and he blinks, absolutely perturbed.

Harry laughs softly, and he reaches out to cup Eggsy's cheek as more flakes start falling. They gather on the fringe of Eggsy's lashes, dust his coat, and he parts his lips and leans into Harry's burning touch.

"I ca... I can't let you spoil me like this." He manages, but he's getting dizzy.

Harry looks absolutely perfect in the snow, a dark cut of dark gray wool, chocolate hair, and smooth skin against a deep backdrop of glowing windows and fairy dust.

"Would you like to wait in the car? I'll not be leaving the heater running for you; be forewarned." Harry teases, dropping his hand to Eggsy's shoulder before he takes his hand again and tugs.

Eggsy whines, being yanked forward and up the stairs. When they arrive at the door, Harry gives his name to a lovely young man with skin like coal and eyes like jade.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Hart. Haven't seen you in quite some time." The man says, his voice rich like bloody velvet.

Eggsy almost groans at that.

"Well, needed a good reason to come back, Anton."

"I see you've found one. May I say, I don't believe I've ever seen you come here with company."

"That would be correct. My usual table, yes?"

"Go on in. I'll have Gabriella wait on you."

"Thank you, Anton. Have a pleasant evening." Harry turns his attention back to Eggsy, laces their fingers together, and smiles. "Please?"

It's all the push Eggsy needs, and he smiles stupidly and follows Harry into  _Cour des Anges._

Inside, the restaurant is a glittering assemblage of crystal, rose, and silk. A girl in a very delicate slip of black and a white collared vest comes prancing over to them in tiny velvet slippers, her hair in a mess of waves pinned to the side. Around her olive neck is a glittering splash of rubies and gold, and she's absolutely too stunning to be real.

"Mr. Hart. It's so good to see you again." She positively beams.

"Gabriella; you're looking well. This is my dear friend, Mr. Unwin." Harry says, holding a hand out to present Eggsy like a young bride.

The woman smiles broadly, her scarlet lips pulling back to flash pearly teeth. "Well, aren't you just as lovely as Mr. Hart. I daresay, I'm unsure who I should be more jealous of." When she ducks her head, Eggsy sees she has a set of white feathered wings harnessed to her back, though he can't see the harness. The tips of the feathers are dusted with gold glitter, and they seem to have a personality all their own about them.

After a laugh, Harry tosses in, "I promise, it's me."

Eggsy blushes, scratches his free hand against the back of his neck, and holds back a snort.

"Let me take you to your table." Gabriella says, and she leads them through the dimly lit room to a table near the middle, the wide glassy windows showing off the street. The snow is starting to powder up the hoods and roofs of cars, but it melts in the street too easily.

Eggsy is ushered out of his coat by Harry, who hands them off to Gabriella with a smile. "A bottle of your usual, Mr. Hart?"

"Champagne?" Eggsy says a little too excitedly.

Harry laughs. "I actually usually drink vermouth when I'm here. But... Would you like some?"

"'ve nevva had champagne." Eggsy shrugs.

Harry blinks at him. "I'm sorry, never?"

"No. Why?" Eggsy replies with a small frown.

"Gabriella, a bottle of your best peach Moet, please."

"Perhaps a Dom Perignone?"

"Whatever is the most golden and bubbly, my lady." Harry adds, and he slips her a crisp bill that Eggsy barely sees.

"Of course, Mr. Hart. Thank you, sir." With that, she spins on her toes and practically dances away, what, with the grace she moves.

Eggsy blinks, and Harry has the nerve to pull out his chair and gesture for him to sit down. Still, even if it's with an eyeroll, Eggsy falls into his chair and lets Harry tuck him in before he watches Harry move to his own seat. In the middle of the table, there is a crystal bowl with a candle carved like a lotus floating on the surface of a fair amount of water, not the usual candle or bottled-rose combo Eggsy has seen in movies.

He manages a glance around the restaurant without looking too obvious. Angels are carved into the glittering moldings, wings etched across the window panes, feathers embroidered into the silken table cloths. The floors are pressed cobblestone-printed tiles, and all around him, Eggsy can hear the distant chiming of bells, though he can't see speakers and knows they are certainly not beneath a bell-tower.

Eggsy also notes that the other waiters and waitresses have the same kind of harnessed wings on their backs as Gabriella, though each pair is different.

"...The court of angels." He laughs softly.

"Magnificent, isn't it? Stumbled upon this place once when I was still in my youth. It has become my favorite place to come for a quiet drink, some decent candlelight, and a superb dinner." Harry tells him, sliding Eggsy's menu away from him.

"Oi. How you know wot I'm gettin'?" Eggsy teases.

Harry simply smiles at him, folding both of their menus together and stacking them parallel on the table top. "If you don't like it, I never bring you here again. If you do, we make a habit of this."

"Habit, huh? Well, I'm not gonna argue with bein' wined and dined on occasion, but... Harry, this place is gorgeous. Wot'd that bloke mean, you nevva come here with someone else?" Eggsy asks, smiling as Gabriella returns with a bottle and two crystal flutes on what seems to be a sterling silver platter.

Harry smiles slowly, looking down at his hands folded on the table. "Just that."

Gabriella says something to Harry in another tongue, one Eggsy thinks to be French, but its a completely different practice to decipher writing and words that are spoken. Harry replies as she fills the two flutes before setting the bottle in a bucket of ice to chill.

" _Merci."_ Harry says, and Eggsy knows that one, but it's somewhat useless. "The usual, Gabi. For both of us."

"Certainly, Mr. Hart." At that, she takes their menus and strolls off.

"Wot wos that?" Eggsy asks with a curious tilt of his chin.

Harry grins broadly, taking his flute by the stem with a laugh. "Nothing. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Eggsy snickers. "Try me."

Harry lifts his flute in means of a toast, and Eggsy follows suit, clinking their glasses together quietly. His giggle embarrasses him, but the blush on his cheeks seems to be quite endearing to Harry, because he just smiles wider. "She said you were beautiful, and that she was glad I didn't come alone tonight."

Eggsy's blush flares, and he ducks his head to look down at the bubbles popping in his glass. "Well... Cheers, then." He huffs, then takes a little swig.

The flavor bursts on his tongue, and bubbles tickle his nose and make his throat flutter.

"Holy  _shit! Thas good!"_ Eggsy says, much louder than intended, and a few heads turn in their direction with grouchy, skeptical stares.

Harry's eye goes miraculously, hilariously wide before his mouth falls open in a startled laugh.

Then they're both laughing like giddy fools, as if they'd already downed a few bottles.

When Eggsy catches his breath, he shakes his head, still snickering lightly. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Is it good?"

"Damn good. Almost as good as steamed soy milk."

"Almond milk. Soy milk is actually quite bad for you." Harry retorts, taking a light sip of his champagne before he sets the flute down.

"Can I ask you somethin', Harry?"

"Anything." Harry replies quickly, and then a quick flicker of regret passes over his face, as if he's regretting what he'd just said.

"...Why'd you get me the tie? Also, I'm real sad it got completely mangled in the explosion, but I go'a know. What wos it for?" The knight asks, and Harry's smile softens.

"I... I wanted to spoil you from afar. I don't feel too comfortable going into detail on what I mean by that, but I had the tie made to match your eyes. I'll give you that."

Eggsy blinks, reaching up to rub his knuckles against his cheek. "My... My eyes?"

Harry nods once, curtly, and sighs. "You looked absolutely lovely."

That makes Eggsy snicker, and he tosses his head back and rolls his eyes. "You can't be serious."

"Absolutely so. In fact, I'm having another made with the spare fabric. It pays to be prepared."

"And a gentleman is always prepared, yeah?"

"Quite so, Eggsy." Harry tips his flute at him and takes a small drink. It's as if he's simply letting the champagne touch his tongue rather than drinking it down.

"Another question?"

"Another answer."

Eggsy grins. "Wot did Roxy tell Drakov? That night, when we were in his bedroom. Wot'd she say?"

Harry's expression goes flat and cold as day-old tea with too much milk in it. "I had hoped you were going to inquire to something a little more... of import."

"It's ov import to me. It got  _you_ all riled up, thas for sure."

"I do not get  _riled up."_ Harry shoots back, but even as he says it, he's getting riled up.

Eggsy laughs again, a tittering thing. "Well, I could always ask her. But I wanted to get it from you; seein' as you're the one who got upset over it."

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. "She just tossed out some slanderous thing to make the lord want you more."

"Wot kinda slanderous thing? That I wos hung like a stallion? Maybe that I shot off beer when I finish?" Eggsy teases quietly, nudging Harry's leg under the table with his foot.

Harry groans loudly, kicking the contact away. "She told him you were a virgin! Or rather, that you'd never been with a man before. It rather seemed to do the trick for him."

Eggsy's throat flushes, and he leans back in his chair and laughs. "Ah... Well, I guess thas a bit slanderous."

"You mean it's not true?" Harry asks, brows shooting up.

"No, no--it... It is." Eggsy blushes furiously, then turns to nursing his champagne.

Harry looks over his face inquisitively, but he is suddenly tense as a statue. His gaze has gone hollow, and his jaw is set like a closed bear trap.

Eggsy clears his throat. "I mean... Wot they said that day in the Black Prince, Dean's goons? Thas kinda true... I was sort ov a... A rent boy for a minute there." He admits, finally, then takes a long swig. "Dean said it wos either me or my mum, and that wosn' gonna happen. He only waited till I was legal so that if the heat came down, it'd come down on me--and it was only for about a year... Maybe two? I don' remember. Try to block it out. So I... I did some things in alleys and parked cars that I ain' ashamed ov. Jus wish I didn' hafta do it. But I always used protection--knocked a guy's teeth out once when he told me I was suckin' it bare whether I wanted to or not. My mouth basically paid for Dean's booze more often 'n not. But it was better than him tossin' my mum around..."

Harry looks like he's going to snap the stem of his flute, and his face is set into a scowl so dark; the likes of which Eggsy's never seen before. "Eggsy... Is this true?" He asks evenly, slowly, like he's barely got the reins on himself.

Eggsy nods, and he looks genuinely confused by Harry's anger. "Why would I lie?"

"If I ever see that gutter rat again, I'll kill him. I hope you know that--there will be absolutely no hesitation." Harry lashes his hand across the table and grabs Eggsy's wrist, almost making him jump. "I will  _kill him, Eggsy."_

Eggsy swallows around a knot in his throat and nods. "Harry, you don' go'a do me any favors." He aims for playful, but his throat is too dry, and Harry's hold on him is too tight. "C'mon, It's not like--"

"No, Eggsy; no. You do not try to justify what happened to you. You were  _forced into prostitution by your stepfather_." Harry all but snarls, though his voice is incredibly quiet for the mood in the restaurant has not changed despite the sudden turn of events in their conversation.

"Harry, I... I mean, it's not... I jus-- _fuck."_ Eggsy groans, closing his eyes. _"...I had to."_

"Eggsy, I need to be perfectly clear right now, because I need you to understand this." He says coldly, and a muscle in his jaw flexes when he grinds his teeth. "If anyone ever--ever--mistreats you again... They'll deal with me. I am so, so sorry I didn't come save you sooner. I can't believe... Why didn't you tell me before?" He looks so thoroughly hurt, and it makes Eggsy smile, thoroughly touched by Harry's concern.

"nothin' to say, really. Who wants to talk about  _that?_ I mean... I trust you not to judge. An' you saw me before I wos this." He gestures down to his smooth, un-rumpled self, Kingsman through and through. "You cared about me before I wos Galahad--you _did_  save me.. Roxy knows, Merlin knows... I thought you knew."

"You never told me."

"Well, I'm glad you didn' jus jump to conclusions--specially after wot that prick said in the Black Prince... Figured you woulda been up an' runnin' after a comment like that. Not many people wanna be associated with a boy who used to scrape his knees for a tenner."

Harry's frown deepens, his thumb brushing an arch across the back of Eggsy's wrist. "If you had entered such a field of work willingly, I can assure you, I wouldn't be this terribly upset. I will never think any less of you, Eggsy. No matter what you do." Harry says boldly, and Eggsy writes up a list of things that he has to make sure he never does, just in case Harry changes his mind.

Still, his grin broadens, and he shakes his head. "Figured you'd say somethin' like that, you posh bunny. Makes me feel even betta about tellin' you. Trust you to never let me get so low again, yeah?" The smile the young knight gives him breaks Harry out of his rage... Slightly. "But yeah. I'm technically a virgin. Through and through, really. Nevva even been wif a  _girl_ either, if we're bein' completely open here." He laughs bashfully, and Harry gapes at him, pulling his hand back.

"The... The princess?"

"Had other things on my mind... Couldn't get it up." Eggsy admits, and he's grinning like it's the funniest joke he's ever told. "Didn't even drink the champagne! But she was a good sport. Told me she'd give me that kiss I originally asked for. Fun stuff--she was a good kisser. But no; I nevva bummed her. As for the girls in school, none of 'em interested me. I mean, sure, they wos pretty, and I dated around and kissed a few ov em, but..." Eggsy blushes to his hairline, ducks his head, and smiles so damn beautifully. "God, I'm such a wanker."

Harry closes his mouth, and a smile warmer than candlelight touches his face. "You're just full of surprises."

"Thought you knew that already." Eggsy says playfully with a wink, pressing the rim of his glass to his bottom lip. "But be honest, you did get riled up."

Harry rolls his eye and takes a drink. "I... I may have been slightly ruffled."

"Because?"

"Because of how Drakov seemed to be so thoroughly pleased that he was going to be the first to debauch you. And with how handsy he was with you, the grabby little brat." Harry grumbles. "No one else should be allowed to..."

"No one  _else?_ Harry, I do believe you've lost me." Eggsy says, and though he sounds playfully curious, he really wants to know where the hell Harry's going with this.

Harry meets his gaze over the table, and something predatory colors his gaze. "No one should be touching you like that. No one."

"You said no one  _else._ Now, I know I myself ain't even touched myself like that for _quite_  a while." Eggsy says simply, giving an affirmative nod on his celibacy. Well, it  _has_ been a while. "So, other than myself... Who'd be gettin' handsy with me?"

Harry shakes his head. "No one else but you, cheeky thing."

"But that kinda touchin' is a  _lot_ more fun when you got someone else doin' it for ya." Eggsy purrs, allowing his voice to drop dangerously low.

Harry swallows, and Eggsy watches the motion with a tumble of heat in his belly.

Then Gabriella comes back with two plates of something Eggsy can only describe as heavenly. They smell better than steak, or pudding, or roasted chicken, and he's not quite sure what it is, but there's little green veggies alongside it and a pretty sauce the color of creamy oatmeal.

His stomach riots, and he realizes how hungry he suddenly is.

"Thank you, Gabi."

"Oh,  _merci,_ Mr. Hart." Gabriella replies, pulling the waves of her hair over her shoulder before she dances off to help another table.

Eggsy looks down at the food, then back up at Harry, then down... Then back up.

"I'm not telling you, so you'd best just eat it while it's hot." Harry says dryly, already spearing one long, green veggie sauteed in something oily and salty smelling.

Eggsy licks his lips. "'M only curious..."

"Curiosity will starve you."

"Your stubbornness will."

Harry smiles at him, but there's something scolding about it. "Eggsy."

"Fine, fine! But if there's somethin' in here I'm allergic to, we could've avoided this whole mess."

"I'm well aware of all of your allergies, thank you."

"Your welcome."

Harry sighs, and the sound is music on Eggsy's skin before he pierces the meaty disk in the center of his plate. It gives off an aroma like bacon, and his tummy grumbles again. " _Damn.._. And it's not quarter sized." Eggsy says absently, then brings the forkful to his mouth and bites.

And oh, Christ almighty, it's the best damn thing he's ever eaten.

"Wot... In god's name... Is in my mouth?" Eggsy asks around a bite, practically moaning as his toes curls.

"Only good things, I promise."

"Harry--"

"If I told you it was chicken, would you be satisfied? If I said it was beef, would you believe me? Just know that whatever it is, it's delicious, and the green things next to it are asparagus, zucchini, and yellow squash." Harry retorts. "There is also cheese."

Eggsy swallows his mouthful and brushes his thumb along the seam of his lips. "...Can I guess?" He inquires.

Harry laughs, exasperated but fond, and smiles up at him. "Oh, my Eggsy."

"Oh, my Harry." Eggsy snickers, and they both go in for a drink of champagne.

It feels so easy. So natural.

So much so that an hour and a half passes and Eggsy doesn't even notice until Gabriella comes to clear their table of their desert plates.

Eggsy licks at the corner of his mouth until every last crumb of his chocolate mousse is gone, and then manages to snatch the last strawberry from Harry's plate before the lovely waitress takes them away.

They're talking.

Just talking, and it feels so strange, like they're meeting for the first time.

Harry tells him about his time at Cambridge, a bit about how he met Merlin--how Merlin had hair once, and how he promises to find some photos to show Eggsy next time he's in the attic--and a little about his mother and father.

Eggsy wants to see pictures of them, too. Harry promises to provide. It makes Eggsy a little sad, to know that he'll never get to meet Mr and Mrs Hart. They both died when Harry was quite young, younger than Eggsy even, of sickness, of heartache, and it was only Harry's brilliance and will to survive that got him through university and into Kingsman.

It makes Eggsy wish he had more to talk about. His story is still so short, and most of it? Not well off. But Harry seems to thoroughly enjoy Eggsy's short tales about his antics and shenanigans, smiling at him beautifully through the night.

The restaurant is quiet, speckled and littered with a few small groupings that remain here and there, and Harry and knight's legs have tangled together under the table, their bodies hunched over the silk-covered surface so that they can talk quietly and closely to one another.

They've been through a bottle and a half when Harry reaches out and brushes a fallen bang out of Eggsy's face.

"I don't know what the devil you did to your hair, but... It looks rather well on you." He says warmly, and Eggsy leans into his touch as it lingers on his temple.

"Goin' for a cross between chavvy and savvy. Honestly? I think it's my favorite thing now." Eggsy laughs, and Harry brushes his thumb down his cheek to his jaw.

"At least you're shaving again. Tell me, Eggsy, Roxy and Merlin--they fancied it. Many of the other lovely nurses in the care ward did as well, as for Degore. Why did you shave?" Harry asks absently, and his gaze is on Eggsy's mouth when he grins.

"Cause you hated it."

Harry pulls back abruptly. "I didn't hate it. I said I didn't care for it."

"Harry speak for 'I hate it, Eggsy; shave it off now'. You don' like cacti--it's fine."

"...You shaved for me?"

"Well, for myself, too. Up-keepin' handsome stubble is a real tricky art. Very tedious. Too much effort, versus just shavin' clean every mornin." He laughs. "Sides... I'm pretty sure I can't help myself. If you said you thought I'd look good with purple dip-dyed hair and a goatee, I'd try it."

Harry coughs and pats his chest, clearing his throat past his smile. "You can't be serious."

"Keep an open mind, I always say. And, of course, please Harry Hart." Eggsy teases.

"I promise you, I am perfectly content with you just as you are. I'll never endanger your charming, devilish good looks with a whimsical thought like pigtails and a Mike Tyson tattoo." He takes a drink. "And you do not always say 'please Harry Hart'. If you lived to please me, you'd never break another bone or get another scratch in your life. Now that would please me."

Eggsy laughs, the champagne still tingling on his lips, bubbling in his gut. He lifts his head, smiling up at Harry in a way that he hasn't felt comfortable doing in almost seven months. It feels... Good. So good.

Harry beams at him, tilting his head to the side, and his smile is that same smile Eggsy had seen that day in the Crumpet Hut, before everything went to shit.

It's brighter than his usual Eggsy Smile, yet it's entirely familiar and fond and there's so much love and adoration in his gaze.

Eggsy freezes, his knee jerking under the table at the sudden response of nerves going off in his fingers.

His smile shrinks a bit, and he runs his eyes down Harry's chest, down his arm... To where their hands have found their way together over the table. It's the same glorious position as that first time, so very long ago. Eggsy's fingers fit perfectly into the cup of Harry's palm, a thumb pressed to the skin of his battered knuckles, fingertips touching the dead nerves of the web of scarring on his palm.

This time, when the wings riot in Eggsy's stomach, he listens to them.

He curls his hand around Harry's, and runs his own thumb against his fingertips, his other hand running idly down the stem of his champagne flute.

When he looks back up, Harry's smile has shrunk, but the warmth in his gaze and the tenderness of his mouth has not diminished in the least. In fact, he looks even more-so enraptured by Eggsy's gaze.

Eggsy presses his lips and takes a deep breath. "I wanna go home." He says quietly.

The corner of Harry's mouth pulls up at that, and he brushes his thumb in a smooth arch over the back of Eggsy's smaller hand. "As I always say--please Eggsy Unwin."

**

**TBC**

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is just part one, so the entire first part of the series will now have six chapter.
> 
> SIX. NO MORE THAN THAT. 
> 
>  
> 
> I have already finished, I'm just editing, pulling and pushing details, making the smut--THAT'S RIGHT I SAID SMUT; like a reward for your dubious pining--as perfect as possible.
> 
>  
> 
> I love you all very much. Don't hate me for breaking things up. I also thought this would make things better so you had something to chew on while I did le smut and editing of the second half. Please. PLEASE. Respite.
> 
> Eggsy's scruff gives me life.


	6. Breathe Again (Pars Duo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perching on the edge of Harry's desk, he leans over Harry, crowds into his space and takes a breath. He reaches out tentatively, cupping Harry's cheek, tipping his head back until their gazes lock. The tip of his thumb brushes the underside of Harry's eyepatch.
> 
> "I can't..." He says softly, voice sounding fucking broken, and shit, he's supposed to keep it together. "I can't forget..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I had a good run.
> 
> Be prepared, for this chapter is 26-something THOUSAND words long and I promise, an entire half of it is smut. Just smut. It's gonna go from zero to a hundred, from feels to fuckery in 2.6, I tell you.
> 
>  
> 
> This is why I split Breathe Again in half.
> 
>  
> 
> More notes at the end. Please, enjoy my pretty, patient darlings.
> 
>  
> 
> -xo Mo, and you guys should visit my Tumblr from now on. I have decided to post previews, snipits, and other such pleasant folly between chapters from now on, since you guys are so patient and good for me <3 <3 [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)
> 
> TW warning:: Two spanks... Just two! Maybe some degrading name calling?? I dunno, I'm not good with TWs

They arrive at Harry's house almost an hour later. The snow is falling steadily by then, and Eggsy huddles up next to Harry a little closer than necessary on the ride home and on the walk up the stone pathway. It's not that he wants to keep warm, really. He just wants to keep Harry close to him.

And Harry obliges, going so far as to wrap his arm around Eggsy and usher him up under the shelter of the front wall of the flat, the path already dusted in the sweetest white blanket.

"Alright... So it snowed." Eggsy finally admits defeat as Harry's turning the key in the lock.

"Hm. Fancy that." Harry says playfully, and Eggsy holds their shoulders together while Harry fusses with the lock before he pushes the door open.

It swings on the hinges easily, and JB comes trotting up with a grin and a wiggling curly tail.

"JB! Wot the devil are you doin' 'ere?" Eggsy laughs, and he shakes the snow from his coat and taps his feet on the entry-way carpet while Harry comes in behind him and shuts the door.

"I told you I'd arrange his transport home." Harry tells him matter-of-factly, flicking a switch that illuminates the hall and the stairs, like a subtle, buttery path to heaven.

Eggsy kneels and pets the pug behind the ears, laughing as he turns over his shoulder to look up at his king. "You assumed home meant here?"

"What do I always say about assuming, Eggsy?"

"...It makes an arse outta you and me?"

Harry closes his eye and sighs, untying the waist belt of his coat before shrugging out of it. "A gentleman never assumes. He takes the facts presented to him and puts them together to find an ending point that is suitable." He holds his hand out, and Eggsy takes it and allows himself to be hoisted up with ease. "Besides, he has been staying with me since Romania."

Eggsy blinks. "You mean you really took care ov him for me?"

"I had to. It was your dying wish."

Eggsy snorts. "You assumed I died then?"

"It seemed like the logical gathering of facts presented to me. I put them together and found an ending very, well... It wasn't suitable."

"So... When I said I wanted to go home... You assumed I meant here as well then? Suitably?" He says slowly, watching as Harry reaches out to undo the fastenings of Eggsy's buttons.

"Quite. Or rather... I had hoped it was what you meant. Was I right to think so?" Harry asks quietly, and he steps in close to shrug Eggsy's coat off his shoulders.

A hard swallow resonates in Eggsy's throat, and he licks his lips quickly, darting his eyes down at anything but Harry's face. "It would seem so, wouldn't it?"

Harry smiles. "Well then." He turns and hangs his coat and Eggsy's up on the knobs of wood jutting out beside the front door before he toes out of his Oxfords. He tips his chin forward, and Eggsy follows suit. "I'm still a little ill to believe that you'd never had champagne before tonight. I have a few bottles here, if you'd like to open one."

"Really? You'd do that?" Eggsy says in warm disbelief.

Harry smiles. "Of course. It's just sitting there feeling sorry for itself. Of course, it won't turn to vinegar, like wine, but if it gets too sweet, I'll be disinclined to drink it myself." With that, he strolls into the sitting room where the liquor cabinet is placed.

Eggsy follows, looking around the house as if he's entered either a museum or a dangerously familiar nightmare. JB's tags come jingling along, and Eggsy stoops against the doorway and looks at Harry's terrible floral print chair and the chaise he'd usually sit in and the painting on either side of the unused fireplace... And it's a bit too much.

Harry's smell is everywhere, his presence in everything, and it makes Eggsy's absence here swell around him after so long.

"Eggsy?" Harry's voice drags him back to the present, and Harry is suddenly in front of him holding two flutes in one hand and a bottle in the other. "Are you alright?"

"Right as rain, bruv. I jus..." He laughs, shaking his head. "Jus lost my train ov thought 's all."

"Hm. Come along then." Harry lets it go, and Eggsy follows him up the stairs, feeling the familiar press of the carpet in their middle, running his fingers along the underside of an incredible ornate picture frame.

They step into Harry's study, and Eggsy looks down at his feet while Harry goes over to his desk to uncork the champagne. "Armand de Brignac. Brut rose; can't seem to remember the year."

"Harry Hart forgettin' somefin'?" Eggsy teases.

Harry sighs, pouring a gracious serving into one flute before he turns to Eggsy and tilts his chin.

Eggsy struts forward, smiling at the bubbling liquid in the tall glass, and when he reaches out with a smug grin, Harry pulls it back and downs it like a shot. Those blue eyes go wide with shock, and Harry licks the seam of his mouth before he smiles.

"That was for your cheek."

"You--"

"Do you want some, or not?"

"Hrmph."

"Hm?"

"Yes, Harry."

Harry pours more champagne into the glass and hands it to Eggsy, and Eggsy tries not to think about how Harry's lips were just touching this glass, how they're standing so close in the warm space.

Then Harry pours himself a glass and walks around his desk where he removes his jacket and falls into his chair with too much grace and gives a sigh that reads too much responsibility.

He's wearing the shoulder holster.

Fuck, that's great.

Eggsy turns the flute on its stem--not to line up his drink with where Harry's lips had been prior, good god no--and takes a small sip.

It's different from the champagne at the restaurant. It's sweeter, but somehow it burns deeper on the way down, and the smell is intoxicating rather than energizing. Eggsy rather likes how these bubbles pop on his tongue before they go dancing down his throat.

"Mm, damn." He says with a grin, taking a step back and spinning on his heel so he can look around the room.

A deep-set wave of nostalgia washes over him, and Eggsy can't help but be amazed as he reads and re-reads all of Harry's miraculous success without actually knowing them. He strolls over to the wall and lays his hand over the first post clipping he's ever asked Harry to explain, touching it with his fingertips while he takes another drink.

"Eggsy, I hope you know I didn't ask you out tonight to simply treat you to a fine dinner and a bottle of my most expensive champagne for us to just sit quietly until bed time." Harry says behind him suddenly, and the tone of his voice makes the tiny hairs on the back of Eggsy's neck stand up.

He presses the rim of his glass to his lips, his heart stumbling over its own feet for a moment. "...That so?"

There's silence until he turns around.

Harry's not looking at him. He's staring at the bubbles racing up the side of his glass, which he has set on his desk in favor of lounging back against his office chair.

Aside from what Eggsy is wearing, and Harry's eyepatch, this moment feels like a memory from far, far in the past, but it tells of a very different future.

"...Eggsy, I'm not quite sure where to begin." Harry says, and there's a twinge of desperation in his voice as his brows pinch up.

The way that Harry suddenly seems so unsure, so lost, makes Eggsy's chest pinch up, and he frowns and turns completely to face him head on. "Well... Why don' you jus start from the beginnin' then, eh?"

"Not quite sure I remember where that is. Sometimes, I think it was a very long time ago. Others, I feel have nothing to do with that." Harry reaches his hand up and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Jus try to assemble your thoughts, an'--"

"No, Eggsy, I'm not sorry for being confused. I'm sorry for  _everything."_ Harry says, and then he looks up and Eggsy is frozen in place by his gaze.

There's a fire in that burning whiskey stare that Eggsy's never seen before, and he thinks his knees have locked to prevent him from falling flat on his ass.

"I was going to tell you... When we got home that day--after your trip to Mumbai? That day when you apparently listened in on myself and Merlin's conversation." Harry says slowly.

Eggsy bristles. He hasn't thought of that day since his accident. It wakes a foul reminder in the cage of his ribs and makes hot venom burn in his throat. "I'd almost forgot that." He breathes softly.

Harry nods. "I rather wish you had. Or that you could have at least listened in to the rest of the conversation." He steeples his hands and sighs. "Merlin convinced me that my behavior was childish, that it was cruel and very ungentlemanly of me. I sat down with myself and decided I was going to tell you when we returned home that evening. I was going to put it all out on the table."

Eggsy's brows furrow. "I missed an important part of the conversation... Didn't I?"

Harry nods again.

"...Wot wos you gonna tell me?"

Harry looks up at him, and for a moment, there's such a deep, unsettling vulnerability in his expression. Eggsy's taken aback, but he doesn't let it show. He squares his jaw and stares at Harry, watching as he manages to slowly piece together the mask of his unblemished countenance. He takes a steady breath through the nose, then his brows furrow, tugging on the eyepatch.

"Everything." He says quietly.

Eggsy dips his jaw, like a go-ahead, and Harry seems to finally figure out exactly how to phrase his words.

"I'm sorry for the way I've behaved. I'm sorry for my ill abuse of your feelings, my sincere lack of concern for your wellfare, and most of all, I'm sorry that I can't be strong enough to just let this go, but I'm afraid I have to get this off my chest, lest it kill me." Harry sighs gathering his breath before he looks down at his desk.

He reaches out and touches the brass lily sprouting from an opened novel, his favorite paperweight. "I thought I had put it all together. I thought I'd made a concise, succinct speech to present to you." He laughs a little breathlessly. "But I suppose emotions don't quite work like politics, do they now? Too honest."

"Harry...?" Eggsy says, almost afraid to find out where this is going.

Harry licks his lips, then presses them to a fine line. He's staring at the paperweight as if it holds all the answers, as if it's easier to think looking at a cold, brass flower rather than at Eggsy's warm, waiting flesh.

"Eggsy, much has changed since we met--mostly in me." Harry says slowly, and he shakes his head a little at the end. "Since I met you, I have learned how to accept things I cannot change, how to grow through unavoidable circumstance... I've learned how to fear again."

Eggsy tilts his head lightly at that.

"When your feed went dead in Romania, I think that was the most heartbreaking experience I've ever lived through--more than likely because I believed well and truly for a good long heartbeat that you had died." Harry smirks almost triumphantly. "But low and behold, you lived. And they wheeled you into the ICU, and I saw you for the first time in twenty-six hours, alive, breathing--beaten to high heaven. I never felt more relieved in my life.

"It made me feel a little unsavory with myself. I'd been through worse with Merlin, and then I failed your father, but never in my life did I feel so completely wrecked as when I thought I'd lost you. It really opened my eyes, Eggsy."

He swallows. "To wot?"

"To how precious and fleeting and  _final l_ ife is." Harry says simply. "It was watching you climb through the rubble at the edge of death I realized there are more important things than stoic virtue, etiquette, and protocol."

Taking a deep breath, Eggsy swirls his glass, watching the bubbles crackle on the surface. "That why you recalled the secrecy policy? Cause you were bent on me?"

"It's not just that, Eggsy. Do get over yourself for a moment, please."

He snorts.

Then Harry smiles fondly. "But it is about you in the end, isn't it??" A tiny shake of the head follows before Harry can continue. "Do you remember the day I came back? It wasn't all that long ago--perhaps my memory is better than yours. After all, you didn't remember meeting me as a boy..." He says slowly, and his voice has gone soft and deep, and Eggsy's back prickles with shivers at the sound of it. "I... I remember you bursting through that door, eyes on fire--the way your mouth dropped at the sight of me." Finally, he looks up, and Eggsy swears there are tears gathering on his lashes, spiking them, making his gaze glow like honey. "There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to cross the room and crush you in my arms. I missed you so much--seeing you was like dying and coming back to life all over again."

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Eggsy rushes out, and his heart is galloping in his chest, making his ribs feel like they might break again.

"Eggsy, do you have any idea how much I care about you? How much you mean to me, how much I need you--how desperately I  _want you?"_ Harry says in a rush, and his hand curls to a fist on his desk. "You've wrecked me. You've completely destroyed me, damn it--since the moment you pranced out of that goddamn police station as if you'd sprung yourself."

Eggsy's mouth falls open, and he stumbles back and catches his shoulders on the wall.

"I had planned this all so differently in my mind... I..." Harry sighs, resting his elbows on his desk so he can cup his face in them. "What I said that day, when you overheard all those terrible things... Those were the words of a coward, nothing more. I meant none of it." He huffs. "Well, I meant the positive attributes, but Merlin was right. I was trying to lower you down so I could try to climb away from you. I was saying those hurtful things to defend myself, and you were never supposed to learn of them. Merlin sorted me out right after that. Railed on me like a red-headed step-child."

Harry rakes a hand through his hair without mussing it before he continues.

"It took me some time, but I acknowledged my feelings to myself and pieced them together in a way that felt--appropriate. What I said to Merlin after you stopped listening, well... It's your own fault if you never know."

Eggsy frowns deeply, thinks about making a snide retort.

But a gentleman is patient, if nothing else.

"But I need... I need you to understand. I need this so badly, and I can't..."

A long, long,  _long_ time passes before Harry can speak again, and when he does, he seems to have regained either a great deal of his composure or a great deal of desperate courage.

"Eggsy, I'm old." He says simply.

It almost makes Eggsy laugh, and he manages to take a swig of his champagne before he shakes his head. "Nah, Harry. Yous gorgeous. Don' look a day over--"

"It's not simply about how I look, Eggsy. The fact is, I am old." He looks over at Eggsy, his expression too hard for Eggsy to read. "I am old enough to be your father. I was  _older than your father. I am twice_  your age; not to mention I got your father killed."

"I've told you; I ain't mad over that."

"It's not about you being  _mad,_ dear one. It's the principal of the thing. I already got one Unwin killed. And look what I've dragged you into--look at you." Harry sighs. "The most impressive young agent this institution has ever seen. Can't tell you how proud I am..."

Eggsy's heart crashes up into his ribs.

"I'm sorry?" He rasps.

Harry's frown deepens. "Does that surprise you?"

"I... I jus..." Eggsy rakes his fingers through his hair, mussing it further, and he laughs coldly. "When you left, I remember how you looked at me. You wos so angry, and you was far from bein' proud of me. You promised you'd come back, you, you--you said you'd come back and fix my mess. And then  _I watched you die."_

"Again, I'm sorry you saw that. But I'm not dead, Eggsy. I did come back to you. I'm right here, and I'm telling you, you did a marvelous job saving the world, and you're a Kingsman now. So, quite obviously, you can fix your own messes rather well."

"Thas not the point. You promised me..."

"...I'm sorry. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not coming back as soon as I'd planned--and in the state I returned in, nonetheless."

Eggsy snorts. "Still perf, if you ask me."

"Far from it. And I still feel terribly for hiding from you. But... To be honest, I just couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me laid up in a hospital bed struggling to read." Harry admits.

"Harry, I wos there when you wos in a coma. I seen you at your worst."

"When I was in a coma, I still had both of my eyes." Harry shoots back.

"Thas besides the point; you know how I feel about your eye. It ain't a problem. I mean... You were the best thing that evva happened to me. Harry, you saved my life--you gave me a reason to  _do somefin' wif it. Then you go off and die_ , damn you. An' I'm sittin' here hatin' the world, havin' nightmares left an' right, thinkin' there was no point in savin' the world if I couldn' save the life that meant the most to me. An' then when you came back, you were cold and distant, and you ki--"Eggsy breaks off. He nearly swallows his tongue, because after all this time, he won't make Harry regret saying he's proud of him.

Harry would be more proud if Eggsy forgot the kiss.

"...The kiss." Harry nearly whispers, and Eggsy's throat burns and his chest is on fire, and fuck, fuck,  _fuck._

"You told me to--"

"I can't." Harry says firmly, shaking his head. "God; I shouldn't have asked something like that of you if I couldn't do it myself... I just can't seem to let go of you. I am proud of you, Eggsy. I do care about you--in fact I..." He smiles, and the look of it is almost painful, as if it is physically harming Harry to look at Eggsy with such adoration and devotion. "I'm quite enamored with you."

Eggsy's back hits the wall so hard he hears something rattle, and he downs the rest of his champagne, his hand a dangerous home for the stem to be in. "Don't. You can't say that. Don't..." He breaks off, scrubbing his hand across his face.

"I kissed you in a moment of weakness, Eggsy. I didn't mean to... To throw myself at you so brazenly. It's just, I hadn't seen you in so long, and I missed you so terribly, and it was surprising to me. I've never cared for anyone the way I care for you. Never wanted, never needed this badly." Harry continues, and he looks down at the desk where he has steepled his fingers. "I've longed for you ever since the day I met you--bold as brass, giving me the worst headache I'd felt in years." He laughs at that. "It was something I sorely needed... To be reminded of something I'd lost. Something inside me raged at the thought of not being able to protect you, even more so at the thought of losing you. And I saw in you a fire that I wanted so badly...

"And watching you through the days of your training? Your unparalleled bravery, the care with which you took with Roxy; never once did you leave her side, even knowing eventually one of you would have to go. Your incredible scores as a marksman, your quick thinking and silver tongue... Your crushing loyalty. I don't think I've ever been more proud of someone in my life than when I saw you lying on the tracks managing the most obscene last words I've ever heard." Harry laughs almost bitterly. "And then to collect yourself so easily right after, glaring up at me and sucking up the wet of your courage.

"Eggsy, you are remarkable, incredible, and above and beyond miraculous. You have something I thought I'd never encounter in my life, with no disrespect to the fine knights I have known. You have the heart of a true hero--solid gold, so heavy, yet you carry it so well."

"Tell me you're jokin'. You can' mean this--any ov it. Why... Why were you so cold, then? Why'd you hurt me?" Eggsy gasps, and his world feels like it's being built up while another is being torn down. Nothing is familiar, but everything feels right.

Harry shakes his head. "I already told you. I'm dangerous, Eggsy. And I'm old. My weakness started your suffering; I hoped my strength would end it. I wanted to push you away, I... How could I take advantage of your obvious feelings for me?"

"If it wos so obvious, why didn't you do somethin' about it?"

"You would have gotten over it."

"You fuckin'  _prick--"_

"I can never be weak with you, Eggsy! I have to protect you--even if it means from myself. You couldn't possibly understand what it is you think you want, but it's not me." Harry shoots back, just as dangerous, just as angry. "I can't have you. No matter how much I want you. And you'll grow out of this infatuation and realize how terrible it was of me to entertain the possibility of myself and a man as young and intelligent and gorgeous as you."

"Harry, Harry--you got this all wrong. You never once asked me how I felt, have you?"

"Then how  _do_ you feel?" Harry groans venomously.

"Christ!" Eggsy snaps, and he storms across the room to slam his hands down on the desk after discarding his flute on the corner. "I want you, too, Harry. I been dyin' for you since I  _met_ you. nothin' I've evva wanted more 'n you. Why don't you get that?"

Harry frowns, the fire in his gaze dampened. "...Because you can't. You can't possibly... Want me."

"What if I told you I did?" Eggsy demands.

"I'd be a little skeptical. You can imagine, an old sod like myself with one eye and gray coming into my temples is not exactly deserving of a lionheart like you."

"It's not about deservin'." Eggsy breaths. "And yous the bravest, most talented, handsome man I've ever met. God, you got no idea wot you do to me. You... You really want me, Harry?"

A long silence beats between them. Then Harry nods. "But I need you to forget... It's only fair that you forget, I... I'm not good for you. Even now, this entire apology? It's a moment of weakness. But it's one I know you deserve. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for hiding things from you, for lying, and most of all, I'm sorry that I... I'm sorry that I'm not good enough."

Eggsy feels like he's been punched in the gut.

"I understand if you want to forget this. But I won't ask you to this time. Forgive an old fool his wild, young heart." Harry almost laughs, and he closes his eyes and tips his head away from Eggsy. "I think I've fallen for you, Eggsy Unwin... Quite spectacularly so."

It's all Eggsy has ever wanted to hear.

He takes a deep breath, then picks up Harry's own flute of champagne and downs the rest. It goes down tingling, and his blood shivers with it.

No turning back now.

He comes around the desk until he's beside Harry, but Harry can't bring himself to look up.

It's up to Eggsy. Perching on the edge of Harry's desk, he leans over Harry, crowds into his space and takes a breath. He reaches out tentatively, cupping Harry's cheek, tipping his head back until their gazes lock. The tip of his thumb brushes the underside of Harry's eyepatch.

It's that reminder. That bold, daring reminder that they'd been given a chance. Maybe not a second chance, because though the fire was there before, Eggsy knows he never would have acted on it. He didn't feel deserving enough, not enough bravery for it.

But maybe that would have changed after he saved the world, once he became an official knight. And Harry would have been so proud, and Eggsy would have kissed him on the mouth at the round table like his life depended on it.

Not in his wildest dreams did he ever think Harry Hart could feel the same way for him as he feels for his king. Each and every breath he took was to make Harry proud; to be Lancelot, to be a Kingsman, to be Galahad, to bring Harry back, to make Harry see him, to keep him looking because nobody ever looked at Eggsy the way Harry did...

It was all he ever wanted.

He has Harry looking at him now. He wants to keep him there.

"I can'..." He says softly, voice sounding fucking broken, and  _shit,_ he's supposed to keep it together. "I can' forget..." He has to prove to Harry he wants him. He has to show him what he means to him. Age was never the problem. Danger was never a threat.

Death ripped them apart, but something better brought them back. It's the chance Eggsy never knew he was waiting for, and it's one he won't let slip idly through his fingers. Not when he has the man of his dreams in his reach, feeling quite enamored and reckless and in love.

"...I'm quite enamored with you as well, Harry Hart." Eggsy says breathlessly, and he lets his fingers brush down the pillow of Harry's mouth, parting his lips so he can feel a moist, shaky breath fan across his fingertips when Harry gasps at his words. "If you'd let me, I..." He swallows hard, and Harry's hands have unlaced themselves, one landing feather-light on the top of Eggsy's thigh. "I'd like to show you just how hard I've fallen for you."

"Those are bold words, Galahad."

"I'll show you how bold I can be."

When he finally gets it out, something flickers to life in Harry's gaze, a spark upon the whiskey that Eggsy has only ever seen once before... A long time ago. It's not unlike the glow of Harry's eyes when he unloaded a clip into a band of civilians in a church, broke an arm and threw a knife into a windpipe, destroyed and destroyed like the force of nature he was.

It's predatory and possessive and wild.

Eggsy licks his lips, and Harry's good eye follows the movement. He reaches up and touches the moist pillow of Eggsy's lip, thumbing over two nearly invisible freckles placed in strategically tempting spots. Then he pulls his hand away.

"...Should you enter this willingly, Eggsy Unwin, I must warn you now, there is no escape. If you do this, if you say that and mean it, you'll have to kill me to end it." Harry positively growls, and Eggsy closes his eyes and sighs into it. "If you say you're mine, then you are. And that will be the end of it. You'll never get away from me."

Eggsy presses his palm smoothly against Harry's cheek, slides it down to his throat. Harry might look calm, the smooth surface of an untouched pool... But his heartbeat hammers up against Eggsy's touch, steady and controlled, but quick and powerful at the same time. And his pupil, against whiskey and wheat, is blown.

He's not quite so in control as he'd like Eggsy to think.

And that, in the end, was where Eggsy was trying to get him all along. He needed to break Harry, from the beginning.

This crack? Compared to all Harry's usual bold, steely, impenetrable, unbreakable self? It is more than enough.

"Wot makes you think I'd ever wanna get away from you?" He purrs, shivering with the delight of it--all of it. Harry's hand squeezing his thigh a little too tight, that heartbeat under his fingers, the scent of Harry's spiced cologne, the way it's all nerve-tingling and making his own heart pulse up behind his ribs...

And then Harry is on him.

Predatory. Possessive.  _Fucking wild._

His broad hands are gripping Eggsy's hips, sliding him across the desk as Harry rises up to claim his mouth and, _oh shit,_ that's just spectacular.

This kiss is a dozen times different than the first, and Eggsy wants to be kissed like this every day forever and always. It's claiming in a fashion unlike the first. It's a fire with a purpose; as if now that Harry knows this is what Eggsy wants, he's more keen on taking everything he has.

And Eggsy gives it up without a fight. Without meaning to, Eggsy moans, and it's the sound of months and months of pining being deforested. Eggsy's legs fall open and Harry slots himself into the space between them, one hand riding up from Eggsy's hip to wrap around his rib cage, the other grabbing his neck.

There's such strength in Harry's hands. Eggsy moans, Harry's tongue breaking into his mouth expertly to slide against his own, and they both taste like champagne and undiluted lust. Those hands that have broken bone, taken bombs apart, crushed faces, butted clips into guns to unload barrels between eyes... They're all Eggsy needs, all he fucking  _knows._

Harry bites his lip experimentally, and Eggsy gasps shakily, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he bucks his hips forward, bringing their torsos flush and locking his knees around Harry's hips. His hands grasp at Harry's biceps, palming over his shoulders and tugging at the shoulder harness fastened around his muscles.

He's ready for this, and he's  _oh so willing._ Whatever Harry wants tonight, he's gonna get it. And if it wasn't on Harry's list? Eggsy's gonna give it to him anyways.

Eggsy tries to express as much, but he's barely coherent enough to form sentences.

It's like the explosion all over again; the crash, the fall, the darkness... The sudden light, the lack of clarity, the inability to know anything but his desperation.

And that name.

" _Harry."_ He pants wetly, moaning against Harry's open mouth, and that hot, seeking tongue traces the outline of his agape lips.

"You've no idea how I've wanted to hear my name falling from your lips like that." Harry groans, and though his voice is unshaken, it's gravelly and low.

Eggsy's gut rolls and he sighs, letting his head fall back as his hands squeeze Harry's arms with bruising force.

Harry's mouth peppers kisses down his jaw, tongue laving at his throat, lips paying close attention to the beauty mark stamped on Eggsy's racing pulse. He yanks on the scarlet tie around Eggsy's throat, tugging him close. "Again." Harry demands, and then he bites the tender skin on the hollow of Eggsy's throat.

"Oh,  _Harry!"_  Is Eggsy's eager response.

He reaches between them and squeezes at his own throbbing cock through his trousers, because fuck, he is  _not_ going to blow in his pants like some panting, horny, desperate virgin!!

Even though he is!!

Eggsy Unwin is going to fuck Harry Hart, and he's not going to let it be ruined by something so embarrassing and mood-killing as premature ejaculation.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my boy." Harry says between heated kisses, his tongue tracing Eggsy's mouth, wet and seeking. "For everything."

Eggsy groans, squeezing his eyes shut. "I forgive you. Christ, I forgive you, you prick."

"May I--"

"Oh,  _fuck the formalities, Harry. Jesus Christ!"_ Is the reply he snaps back, breathless and aching.

Harry groans, and he bites Eggsy's neck again before he's taking Eggsy's wrist in hand, tearing it away, and replacing it with his own.

Eggsy whines so sweetly, arches his back and tosses his head to the side, hips riding up to meet Harry's hand palming him roughly through his clothes.  _Holy fuck, Harry's touching his cock!!_ His hands both return to Harry's shoulders, gripping on tight as he pants hotly against Harry's jaw.

"Can't believe you've never been touched before--can't believe this is all mine." Harry sighs, kissing Eggsy's cheek while he works him with one hand, the other palming down his side, running over his chest to snap open the buttons on his jacket, yanking his tie loose so it hangs about his throat weakly. "Mine--all mine. God, Eggsy, you will never belong to anyone else. Do you understand? Can't believe I have you, can't believe you're mine."

Eggsy just wheezes, the reality of Harry Hart's hands and lips and body on him making his brain swell as all the blood rushes south to do better things.

"Just can't...  _Fuck, Eggsy."_ Harry growls, voice dark and heavy like velvet, and Eggsy can't believe he heard such a thing come from Harry's mouth. He keens wantonly in his throat, bucking his hips up against Harry's hand.

"Yes, yes,  _fuck yes. Fuck me, please--_ Harry. Take me--take everythin' I got. Yours. 'M yours--make me yours, please." Eggsy rambles deliriously, and he barely even realizes Harry has stopped palming his cock through his trousers in favor of shoving his jacket down off his shoulders to the floor before he yanks Eggsy's tie free. Those incredible hands are palming across his chest, one riding up his back to grab at the collar of his shirt.

"I plan on it, darling. Tonight and every night." Harry mouths hotly against his neck, pulling harder on the material, fingers slipping into the holes of space between Eggsy's shirt buttons.

" _Fuck."_ Eggsy mewls. The endearment is like lightning in Eggsy's blood, and he knows instantly that if Harry weren't holding him crushed so flawlessly to the desk, he'd have fallen on his ass due to his lack of knees.

"Is this shirt expensive?"

"We work at a tailor's."

"Then I suppose it can be fixed." Harry bites back before he yanks with both hands, ripping buttons free and tearing the shirt down Eggsy's back at the same time.

Eggsy whimpers at how arousing that is, until he realizes his arms are yanked down to his sides by the sudden bunching of material, his cufflinks still locked in place. His pendant is hot against his neck, and when Harry gets him trapped up by the wrappings of his shirt still caught on his arms, the mouth on his neck licks hot and wild down his collar bones before he kisses the medallion.

One of Harry's hands palm down Eggsy's chest, and when a nail catches on his nipple, he hisses breathlessly and chokes on a gasp. His cheeks flush darker. Yes, Harry will log that away for later.

"So beautiful. Fucking gorgeous." Harry sighs, and he laves his tongue up Eggsy's throat and kisses his beauty mark again. "I'm going to find each and every one of these. They're mine. The constellations in your skin are mine. The salt in your sweat is mine." He rakes a hand through Eggsy's hair and tugs, angling his neck back to hard that a strangled moan chokes out of Eggsy's tight windpipe. "The silk of your hair is mine. The light in your smile is mine."

" _Yours. Fuckin' prove it, Harry. Please."_ Eggsy pants, and his hands scramble back and clutch along the edge of the desk.

Harry growls, biting the mess of cinnamon and ginger freckles on the curve of Eggsy's golden shoulder, yanking at his belt and undoing his buttons and zip with precise, deadly fingers.

Eggsy's drunk. He's fuckin' drunk on too much champagne, and he's lost the ability to hold his alcohol, because this can't be real. His every fantasy and every dream is coming true--times only about a million--and he can't believe it.

Kisses work their way down his chest, a tongue laving each nipple teasingly before lips settle on more freckled patches of skin, more moles and beauty marks. Harry seems to have a kink--Eggsy is more than happy to indulge. He also seems to love how incredibly soft Eggsy is, his fingers brushing bare skin with heated, desperate touches, save for the fine dusting that rides down from Eggsy's belly button to disappear into his pants, the thin patch between his hard pecs.

Eggsy jolts when a hand grips his hip and a mouth feathers across the scar on his side. His breath hitches in his throat and he ducks his head, watching as Harry pays close attention to the quickly-fading firework branded into his flesh. Harry's brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut tight, and his mouth lingers on the mark far longer than what even adoration warrants.

Eggsy's never felt more wanted, more incredible. Harry's fingers skim across his flesh, occasionally latching onto him with a force just beneath bruising, as if Harry is trying to hold him steady, hold them in the moment.

When his fly is ripped open, Harry is practically kneeling before him, and a sharp bite to the V of his hipbone makes him choke on a pleasured scream, arms struggling at his sides, toes curling in his socks.

Harry makes another gutteral noise before hooking his hands under the younger boy's ass, lifting him without struggle. Eggsy sits on the edge of the desk and, before he falls onto the polished wood completely, Harry yanks his trousers and briefs down, and he moans when his cock springs free of the confines.

Harry sighs, so heavy and reverent, Eggsy thinks he may just die. " _Oh, darling."_ Harry almost laughs, and his hands on Eggsy's hips squeeze with bruising force, his eyes locked to the leaking head of Eggsy's cock, straining up, proud and red, right at Harry's mouth _._

"Christ, please, Harry,  _please."_ Eggsy whines, and his dangling legs give him no leverage, his toes brushing the carpet beneath the desk, his pants locked around his knees.

Harry grins up at him, devilish and so fucking raw. "A gentleman never makes their lover beg." He says steadily, and how is his voice still so controlled? Eggsy doesn't get it!

He wants to say something upon the matter, grumble about it and ruffle Harry's feathers, but then that silver tongue is lapping from the base of his cock to the tip.

His hips buck wildly, and Harry snaps his ass back down against the desk while his fingers scramble backwards helplessly, rustling papers and kicking pens to the ground. " _Fuck!"_ Eggsy shouts brokenly, and Harry kisses the tip of his cock, forcing him to snap his head down and open his eyes for a view of this most momentous occasion.

A smile is the first thing he sees, Harry's whiskey-gaze burning him through the glimmer of his glasses lens. "...Perfect. Just perfect." Harry sighs, breath hot and moist against the head of Eggsy's cock, and Eggsy's hips quiver, a fresh drop of precum gathering on the tip.

Eggsy is a rather modest creature, for all his bravado, but he knows he's incredibly fit and well hung. He's got length, and the most subtle curve to his cock, the head always flushed the most lovely shade. It is this knowledge that has him almost shooting off down Harry's throat when Harry runs one hand up the ridges of his abs as he closes his head around Eggsy's tip and  _sucks._ Then he  _moans_ , and the vibration rides through Eggsy's cock and makes him see stars.

It's mind-numbing, toe-curling, and Eggsy whines and keens high in his throat as he watches Harry's eye fall shut before he sinks his mouth down, down, down Eggsy's cock until his nose brushes the dusting of fine, dark golden hair at the base.

He thinks he screams something, thinks obscenities drool from his lips, but he can't tell, because a moment later, Harry's dragging off with incredible suction, and a hand is tugging one of his nipples so sharply it almost hurts.

Harry's all lips and tongue, swirling around the tip of Eggsy's cock, suckling kisses to the crown, lapping at the thick vein on the underside of his length. And he's good at finding rhythm.

Eggsy pants wetly, swears he can see the air fogging from the heat. Harry switches to his other nipple, tweaking and rolling the bud till it pebbles beneath his fingers, and Eggsy bites his lip and rushes out a breath through his nose.

"Harry..." It's all he can say right about now, his cock heavy and leaking in Harry's mouth, his hands untying him with the barest of ease. A very precise tongue flick, and Harry's managed to brush right over the slit of Eggsy's cock. He shudders all over. " _Fffuuuuck, Harry."_

"Yes, my boy?" Harry says almost teasingly, just after he's let go of Eggsy's cock with a wet, slippery pop. His lips are glistening, his smile so tender, and his eyes smoldering with sin. So many signals, all pointing to the same sign.

Eggsy whines helplessly.

"Where'd all that bravado go, love? Where's my bold brass?"

"I--you--I jus...  _Hnnn--ah!"_

"Ah, so articulate you're barely comprehensible." Once again, Harry lifts him easily, but this time, Harry falls into his office chair and brings the knight with him.

It makes Eggsy yelp, and his knees fold atop Harry's thighs, hands grasping the edge of the desk and his back leaning against it to support this new found angle that has his cock jutting up to the ceiling and his back bowed just where Harry wants him.

"Harry?" He huffs.

Harry wraps his gun-calloused hand around Eggsy's cock, pumping it with unforgiving power and unbroken twists of a skilled wrist, slowly taking him apart. It has Eggsy fucking up into the touch with wanton moans, his eyes falling shut and his head lolling back. "Ha-Ha-Harry. You hav--you hafta stop. 'M gonna-- _oh, Christ, auh--I'm gonna... Can', stop, please."_

"I do believe you're missing the entire point of this exercise, Eggsy. After all, getting you over the finish line is something of my goal." Harry purrs devilishly, rubbing his thumb over Eggsy's slit while squeezing along the length. Pearly droplets of liquid rise to Eggsy's head and drip down, slicking over Harry's knuckles.

Eggsy shakes his head, knuckles bone-white on the desk, arms and legs trapped by his clothes. "Not to sound rude, but I don' exactly wanna be the reason why this night ends early." He pants.

Harry just grins. God, his boy is magnificent. How did he get so lucky? With each heave of his chest, Eggsy's flesh gets darker pink, flushed so pretty, making his nipples look like berries and his mouth like a rose. And his cock... Harry ducks his head forward--an effort on his back, but not one he'll complain about outloud--and laps his tongue at the precum on the head, moaning against the flavor.

It makes Eggsy squirm.

"You're very young, Eggsy. And rather spirited." Harry says matter-of-factly, and it makes Eggsy's eyes snap open and focus on his face. Those beautiful baby-blues are nearly swallowed up by the oil spill of his pupils, and Harry loves how there is an honest-to-god shine of drool on Eggsy's lips, nearly leaking out of the corner. "Surely you can find it in you to cream yourself more than once in one night."

"Oh,  _Christ, Harry. You're mad. Barkin' mad! I--_ "He's cut off by a moan, and he's lurched forward when Harry grabs the pendant round his throat and tugs.

Eggsy goes willingly, bracing his hands on the arm-rests of the chair, his forehead nearly knocking into Harry's.

And Harry keeps him there, pinned into place by a hand fucking over his cock and one wrapped around the metaphorical symbol of their bond--Harry's claim, staked unbidden and unknowingly so many years ago.

The chain burns hot against the back of Eggsy's neck, and he's never felt more anchored; Harry's hands, Harry's eyes,  _fuck._ Their foreheads press, and Eggsy can't look away, panting wantonly, breathlessly as Harry's hand pumps over him, the weight of his hand tugging down on the _fucking collar_  around his throat insanely good.

It's all so drugging, and he's never felt hotter or more helpless.

Then there's Harry's voice, and that one little plea--it's all Eggsy can do not to die.

"For me."

A broken, wrecked,  _possessed_ scream falls from Eggsy's lips, and he shakes as his hips buck and Harry rings the pleasure from his cock in ropes of thick, white-hot ecstasy.

His orgasm hits him like lightning, frying his nerves and completely destroying all self-control and self-awareness. Eggsy's cum paints his abs, runs down Harry's knuckles, and he whines and moans all the way through it, his vision going mottled at the edges.

Harry just stares up at him reverently, his body shuddering as he watches while his own hands take his boy apart. "Gorgeous. Just fucking gorgeous." He whispers, planting kisses on Eggsy's exposed throat, against the pressure of his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. His skin is so hot, misted with sweat, and his breathing is so ragged it has Harry feeling like  _he's already come undone._

He gives his boy's cock a few more tender pumps before he pulls his slippery hand off and marvels at all the pearly white liquid gathered on his fingers, slicking his palm.

When Eggsy blinks deliriously, eyes trying to find a place to focus, Harry gives him a focal point to really give a shit about. He brings his spunk-covered hand up to his mouth and licks from the butt of his palm to his fingertips, dragging the stark-red tip through the mess.

It's thick and sweet in his mouth, and Harry watches Eggsy watching his mouth as he swirls his tongue around a particularly filthy digit before he sucks it into his mouth and slurps the cum right off.

Eggsy's cock seems to immediately stop softening, twitching with white-hot interest as a tiny spurt of spunk drools from the head. And just like that, he's hard and ready to go all over again.

"Insatiable, aren't you?" Harry moans fondly, voice dripping lust and pride, and he uses his hold on Eggsy's Kingsman medal to pull him down for a wet kiss that tastes like champagne and Eggsy's cock.

They both moan a little too whorishly to be considered gentlemen, but Eggsy figures that title went out the window when their mouths crashed together for the first time.

Harry pants against Eggsy's open mouth, smiling too broadly, feeling too light. "Ready to go to bed?" He says quietly, and Eggsy jerks back.

"Oi, I've not come all this way just to be put to bed. 'M not even tired, Harry. C'mon. You haven't eve fu--"Eggsy trails off, seeing the flat-browed, cold-eyed expression Harry is now giving him. "...Oh.  _Oh. Yeah--fuck yeah_ , I'm ready."

"That's my boy." Harry whispers brilliantly, fondly, and Eggsy's eyes fall shut against the weight of it. How long has he waited to hear that? How good does it feel to have Harry calling him that?

Too fucking long, and too fucking good. Eggsy is wrecked.

"Kay. Let's go--"He begins, climbing off of Harry's lap only to nearly collapse to the ground. Oh, right. He'd nearly forgotten he didn't have bones south of his pelvis anymore.

Harry laughs breathlessly, catching the younger boy by his elbows and holding him upright. "Well, that's flattery for you."

"Shut up, jus lemme get it together here." Eggsy laughs, kicking out of his trousers as best as he can. He fumbles about trying to pinch his socks off, his cock bobbing against his belly with each movement. "Don' know how I'm still this fuckin' hard. Look wot you've done ta me, Hart." He says breathlessly, shrugging out of his shirt--despite the tiny snap from one of his cufflinks ringing in his ear--before he throws his arms around Harry's neck and kisses him again.

It feels so. Fucking. Good. Pressed up against Harry. Those strong, broad hands on the small of his back, circling his hips, that mouth hot and so damn talented on his own... And Eggsy's completely fucking naked while Harry's still got on the better part of a suit and  _a fucking shoulder holster with two loaded pistols on either side._ It's a wet dream, god damn.

It reminds both of them suddenly, and Harry manages to shrug out of it without breaking their lips apart, discarding it on the desk with a thunk before his hands are on Eggsy's bare shoulder blade and hip, drawing him close.

Eggsy nips Harry's lip lightly, then tongues across the plush pillow of it. "'M sorry. For bitin' you, that day... Didn' mean to hurt you." He whispers, suckling the stinging flesh between his lips while Harry grinds his hips up against his bare erection.

"I deserved it. Perhaps, under different circumstances, I may have enjoyed it." Harry replies with a tiny laugh, sliding his hands down to cup Eggsy's ass, squeezing and kneading until the younger boy's legs tremble again.

"Go on then, Harry. Take me to bed." Eggsy giggles, and he yelps in surprise when Harry stoops forward and picks him the fuck up. His limbs fly around Harry, hugging him tightly as he hooks his chin over Harry's shoulder.

"Without a moment's delay, my boy." Harry replies, and bracing one arm across Eggsy's lover back, the other still cupping his ass, he strolls out of the study.

"Christ, Harry--put me down! I'm too heavy for you!"

"Are you implying that I'm old?"

"Well--"

A sharp bite to the meaty tendon of his shoulder leaves Eggsy gasping.

"I can carry my darling boy to the bedroom, thank you very much." Harry says bitterly, but it's not sincere, and Eggsy gasps when he's tossed onto the bed. He bounces once, laughing as he goes sprawling across the comforters, head spinning against the haze of blue and green around him. The curtains are open, the street lamp outside making the room glow like winter at dawn, with flurries of snow glittering like fairy dust through the glass.

God, it smells so much like Harry in here. It used to comfort him...

Eggsy wants to ruin that.

He wants this room to reek of their sweat, the sweetness of their sex painted into every particle in the air, damn it. This will never be Harry's room again. It'll be  _theirs._

He sits upright, watching Harry, watching him. That whiskey gaze is burning, and Eggsy feels his breath catch in his throat at how still Harry is on the side of the bed. He licks his lips, hands palming across the once familiar feel of the blankets beneath him. "Lose your nerve, Harry?" Eggsy says quietly, and Harry's jaw clenches.

"Nothing of the sort... It's just..." Harry smiles tenderly, hands clenching to fists at his sides. He huffs violently, crossing the rest of the space between them to take his glasses off and set them on the bedside table, hesitating to turn the light on. When he decides against it, he gives a heavy sigh. He's still too far away for Eggsy's pleasure when he puts one hand on his hip and used the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You're so beautiful."

Eggsy snorts. "I coulda told you that. Now c'mere." He says brazenly, reaching a hand out for his gorgeous lover.

Harry glances at him, opening his mouth as if he means to say something more. Then his gaze rakes over Eggsy's naked frame, and something shifts, dragging his posture down. He closes his eye and presses his lips, the look of sudden brokenness on his face making Eggsy's heart climb up into his throat. "Eggsy, I  _can't."_ He whispers, and Eggsy is off the bed and standing in front of him so quickly it startles both of them.

"Harry, do you want me?"

A nod is his reply.

"Do you know how much I want you?"

A tiny shake of the head.

Eggsy sighs, rising onto his toes--fuck Harry, tall bastard--to kiss his king's jaw. He cups Harry's cheeks and tips his head down, lips skimming over lips, nose, eyelid, eyepatch.

Harry's sharp intake of breath startles him, and Harry nearly jerks back.

Eggsy holds him still, fingers dancing forwards, curling behind Harry's ears, raking up through his thick, terribly silken hair. When he touches the band of material that holds Harry's eyepatch in place, Harry's hand whips up and catches his throat, like instinct; second nature. It's not a threat--he doesn't squeeze, is barely even touching Eggsy, god, he'd never hurt him--but it's a warning.

And  _holy fuck._

Eggsy moans, but he knows that's not the reaction the sudden motion was supposed to elicit out of him. Harry knows it, too, and he gasps and presses the tiniest bit harder on Eggsy's windpipe, thumb swiping down the smooth, hollow column. It feels so sinfully delicious, having those hands on him--but this? This is a whole new level. Eggsy knows Harry could break his fucking neck in a heartbeat, knows those hands have beaten people bloody, have done so much damage, could do even more in the future...

It's like he's bitten the pin out of a grenade, put one bullet in the chamber and spun it, pressed a blade against his throat with a weighty, indecisive hand.

Eggsy loves it. The thrill that it shoots through his nerves is liquid sugar, thunder-bolt deep in its intensity and higher than anything he's ever felt.

Eggsy sighs, spins them around with Harry's hand still on his hammering pulse, grabbing him by his hair and his trouser belt loop, walking them backwards reluctantly until Harry's legs bump the bed.

"Lemme show you." Is all Eggsy says, breath soft before he's claiming Harry's mouth and unfastening the clasp on the patch's strap at the same time.

Harry gasps, his free hand flying up Eggsy's hip, the other skimming over his windpipe in favor of cupping the side of Eggsy's jaw, and he crushes them together, latching his chin over Eggsy's shoulder when Eggsy's fingers finally have hold of the patch.

"Harry..." Eggsy breaths, the silken material in his hand a sudden lightning bolt of reality. It's off... It's off, and Eggsy is holding it in his hand with Harry shaking in his arms. "Harry, please."

"This isn't... I can't... What..." Harry rasps, and Eggsy wraps his arms around Harry's frame, hugging him back with such force it makes Harry gasp shakily.

"...I don' care, Harry. Please. Please, lemme show you--don' hide from me. You remember wot happened the last time you hid from me?" Eggsy says softly, raking his fingers through Harry's hair, rubbing his shoulder through the cotton of his shirt.

Harry lets out a rough breath. "All too well."

"Then stop." Eggsy tells him, and when he manages to get his hands on either side of Harry's face, he pries Harry away from him with gentle nudges until their faces are only a few inches apart.

Eggsy contains his gasp, because that's not what Harry needs to hear right now. Harry has his eyes closed, his jaw squared as if he's ready for a punch.

The first thing Eggsy notices is that there's a thin scar cutting Harry's eyebrow that he never noticed before; a knick of a thing close to the end where the well-plucked hairs grow thin into a point. The second thing he notices is that Harry's eye isn't destroyed. He still has lashes, still the semblance of an actual eyeball in the socket beneath his lid, and the scar tissue is almost a perfect X.

"Oh, my Harry..." Eggsy says reverently, quiet and sweet, before he rises onto his toes and kisses the scar. He feels movement beneath his lips, a flutter, a swift arch, as if Harry's looking around, and draws back sharply. "Is... Is it still??" He doesn't know how to say it.

Harry nods. "Merlin says it could have been saved, were I here at HQ immediately after the accident... Unfortunately, now, it could take years before there's anything they can do. So, I donned the patch and... Gave up."

Eggsy wishes he'd killed Valentine differently. Slowly, painfully, letting his rage out like steam through his pores. He hates himself for letting the man that did this to Harry get off so easily. He kisses Harry's eye again.

"If it's any consolation, I think the patch is sexy."

Harry laughs, and it eases the tension from his shoulders lightly.

"Harry? Harry, look at me..." Eggsy says softly, cupping Harry's cheeks in his hands.

There's a long, deep pause between them before Harry obliges him. His lashes flutter, and when he opens his right eye, he smiles at Eggsy a little sadly.

Eggsy shakes his head. " _Look at me."_ He whispers.

A flicker of panic crosses Harry's face, and Eggsy can feel his jaw clench against his palms, his hands squeezing on Eggsy's hips.

This is difficult for Harry. It's so damn painful, so fucking agonizing he can't put it into words. There's such a heavy wave of disgust for himself rising up in his chest, such a deep shame... But then there's Eggsy, smiling at him, looking at him the same way he had since they first met, if not a little fonder. He doesn't care about the way Harry looks... Well, maybe a little, but not in the way most people do. He's never seen the patch as a hindrance; only ever hated the wound because of what it meant.

But he told Harry himself, his eye was a reminder that it could have been much worse... That he could not have come back at all.

This wouldn't be happening if he didn't come back... He wouldn't have Eggsy in his arms, healing wounds far deeper than the skin.

He closes his good eye, and then opens them both.

Eggsy does gasp this time, because there's no holding back the shock that not only does Harry trust him enough for this, but that his eye is the most startling thing Eggsy has ever seen.

What once was a pure whiskey colored iris is now a fractured, stained-glass window of winter. The majority of Harry's iris has been overcome with the pale blue of blindness, including his pupil, which is nearly storm-cloud gray. Shards of darkness reign through the milky shade, like the sun trying to pierce clouds, the brilliant golden brown of Harry's eye trying to overcome the shadow cast by the glass.

"...Harry." Eggsy says, because, once again, it's the only word he needs to know.

A tiny, nearly frightened smile touches Harry's lips, and he blinks, lashes disarmingly long, hands slowly drifting off of Eggsy's hips.

"This is yours." Harry says quietly, clearing his throat before he continues. "Nobody has... Has seen this before. Aside from Merlin and two doctors at HQ, and that was many months ago. I... This is yours."

 _I'm yours,_ he's telling Eggsy, and Eggsy is falling to his knees in worship before he can stop himself.

"Eggsy!" Harry gasps, and his hands skim over Eggsy's bare shoulders while he watches nimble fingers pick open his belt, tearing it through the loops of his trousers. He tosses it aside before he works on Harry's button and then drags the zipper down, eyes focused dead ahead.

When Eggsy pulls Harry's trousers open and yanks them down his thighs, he's met with the most beautiful silhouette he's ever seen.

Against the flattering, deep gray of Harry's tight briefs there is a gorgeous stain of black that surrounds his leaking cockhead.

Eggsy moans, following the length of it, tucked beneath the thin cotton. His cock twitches, and he closes his eyes and leans forward, gripping Harry's hips and closing his mouth over the wet patch. He suckles, and Harry's breath hitches, nails biting his shoulders.

"Lemme show you... Gonna show you, Harry--gonna make you see." Eggsy says almost deliriously, and he laps at the length of Harry's cock through his pants, painting the material darker, making Harry sigh.

"Well th-then... Go on." Harry groans, and when he dips his head forward, Eggsy looks up at him, holding his skith-colored gaze. "A gentleman never makes his lover beg."

The smirk Eggsy gives him has Harry's gut pinching with flame, his balls tightening in response. "Oh, Harry... Who said I wos a gentleman?"

With that, Eggsy begins the show. He moans wantonly as he licks and kisses and suckles at Harry's cock through the thin material, Harry's legs quivering, his head fallen forward and his gaze glued to the scene playing out before him.

When teeth pinch lightly at the elastic band of his briefs, Harry's breath hitches in his throat. Eggsy holds eye contact with him as he drags the material down, his head just barely freeing itself.

Eggsy takes a moment's pause to tip his chin up and give the head of Harry's cock a teasing little kitten lick.

"Hnn-- _fuck."_ Harry hisses, biting his lip and willing himself to be still as Eggsy's fingers hook into the waistband and finally drag down, his cock falling free with an ache of relief.

Eggsy makes a startled sound, the head of Harry's cock smacking obscenely against his cheek, and  _holy fucking Christ, Mary, Mother of God, has anything ever been more beautiful?_

Harry's cock is slick and flushed, just as long as Eggsy's with a fatter head and a thick base that he's going to fucking taste when he finally gets fucked by it. Harry watches in awe-struck silence as Eggsy sizes him up with a smile too devilish to ever forget.

"Christ, easy, big boy." Eggsy scolds Harry's cock as if it would listen, and Harry's eyes fall shut and his hips shiver.

"Please." Harry sighs, jolting when Eggsy's hand locks around the base of his cock, dragging his foreskin up over the head, squeezing more drops of precum free from the slit.

The moan he gets in return is pure fucking sin.

"Sorry, Harry? Please wot?" Eggsy replies innocently enough, giving Harry's cock a few experimental pumps.

"Ffff _uck._ You little cock-tease. _Fucking tart._ ".

And, wow. Maybe Eggsy has a thing for name calling, because what  _that does to his cock. "Mmm_ , flattery will get you nowhere, sweetheart. Better to just ask for what you want straight out. Like a  _gentleman."_ Eggsy coos, and he laps his tongue against Harry's slit, slipping his tongue under the hood of his foreskin.

" _Auuuh. Please, Eggsy._ Don't do this. Is this your idea of showing me how much you want me?"

"Ah! A fair reminder, then." Eggsy says playfully, and then he licks his lips.

For all his bravado, Eggsy is really mother fucking nervous. He sizes Harry's cock up again, runs his hand over the velvet-smooth skin. His mouth is watering and his gut is in tight coils of heat, like he could shoot off again any second.

He hasn't sucked a cock in almost three years, not since before Harry found him and made him a Kingsman.

He hopes he remembers how. After all, it's gotta be like riding a bike. He's so fucking nervous, he wants to make this  _so good for Harry._

Taking a deep breath, he sighs against Harry's cockhead and then closes his lips around it. He suckles eagerly, brushing his tongue in broad arches against the underside of the head before sucking in a breath. He rides down the length of Harry's cock, tears prickling his eyes, the head nudging bluntly against his throat.

He holds there, listening to Harry's breathing grow heavy and shallow, and he opens his eyes and looks up at him.

There's something still so incredibly regal about how Harry's holding himself, but his jaw is slack and his brow is misted.

"G-gorgeous. Gorgeous boy."

Eggsy moans, closing his eyes before he lets himself draw back, only to sink back down onto Harry's cock, taking him deeper. He gets a flawless rhythm, one that comes from the mechanical action of doing this a few times a night while thinking about being anywhere else.

But there's nowhere else he'd rather be than with Harry Hart right now. This... This is where he wants to be forever.

If he were reduced to nothing, and Harry told him to stay on his knees forever, only there to be used as a warm mouth to fuck, he wouldn't care. Not even a little.

But when Harry's hand cups his jaw, brushes a thumb against the curve of his cheek, Eggsy knows he'll never just be a warm mouth. He opens his eyes and realizes that he's crying, and Harry thumb just dragged through the streak of a tear.

"If I'm hurting you, love--"

Eggsy pulls off, gasping wetly and stroking Harry's cock so he doesn't lose the stimulation. "No, no--nevva. Jus... Jus got a lil' overwhelmed, thas all. Harry, I..." Eggsy breaks off, because he hasn't cried in a long time. It's been so, so fucking hard to do it--the last two times he can remember was leaving Harry's and then the terrible panic arriving at HQ after Romania.

His heart has been so stuffed with tears, and they're just pouring down his face now, a steady rivulet on each cheek that drains the weight of agony and the sting of anger and the memory of loneliness from him like cracking a dam open.

It's the most liberating thing he's ever felt, and he's not sure if it's because he's kneeling in front of Harry Hart like he's always wanted to, or if it's because he knows that Harry would kneel for him and never rise again just as easily.

It's so overwhelming, and his cock is so hard he whines as he reaches down to press his palm against it. He moans, ignoring Harry's sudden surprised call of his name, and he dives back in, sucking Harry with renewed vigor.

He laps broad strokes from base to tip, pulls off to suckle Harry's balls while he strokes his cock in tandem before twirling his tongue around the head.

"Eggsy, my god. You're just magnificent, aren't you? Oh, Christ--yes, my boy. Oh, such a good boy.  _My good boy."_ Harry rants aimlessly, stroking Eggsy's cheek, raking his fingers through the thick mess of his golden hair.

And that's it...

Eggsy's a goner.

He pulls off, keening in his throat as he grips Harry's hip with bruising force, dropping his head and sucking in huge lungfuls of air that don't feel like they're enough. His face is soaking wet with tears, and he can't see straight, so bleary-eyed and blinded by pleasure on top of that.

"Eggsy? Darling, I--"

"Wait, wait, please, jus wait. I can'--I,  _fuck."_ Eggsy pleads, and Harry quickly cups his jaw and tilts his head up, watching the tears fill Eggsy's eyes like rainfall. It paints them a dozen shades, fractures them with shards of forest and copper and frost as if the light of gunfire was exploding behind them. He smears his other hand against Eggsy's cheek, catching the burning hot tears under his palm and destroying their path before they can fall from his jaw and chin.

"Come for me." Harry pants, and Eggsy can't resist.

He mewls helplessly, the heel of his hand on his cock a distant memory before he pulls it away in favor of grasping onto Harry's thighs. Then he's mouthing wet kisses and his drooling tongue laps across Harry's cock while he comes again untouched, cock twitching, leaking against his thigh.

"That's it. My good boy; look at you."

" _Haaaa--Harry."_ Eggsy moans breathlessly. It's not as much spunk as before, but it's enough that Harry grips his wrists, pulls them away from his thighs, and sits on the edge of the bed to observe.

"Christ, what did I do to deserve you?" Harry rasps, and he cups Eggsy's chin in one hand, reaching down with the other to lightly stroke his still-leaking cock. "Ah. Not sure if we should keep going. Don't want to break you."

"I want you to." Eggsy slurs, another tear trekking down each cheek, and he turns his face and kisses Harry's palm. "My god, Harry, 'm already wrecked for you."

"Oh, darling, you haven't been wrecked. Not yet." Harry dips forward, brushing his lips against the shell of Eggsy's ear. "I promise."

Shivering, Eggsy licks his lips and melts against Harry. "Fix that." He challenges, and he thinks himself a little too bold for his own good.

He's never come twice in one hour. Maybe twice in one night if he got lucky, sure as hell twice in one day. But Harry's already picked him apart from flesh and bone  _twice, already wrung his cock out like a wet cloth twice_ , and it hasn't even been a whole hour!!

He kind of wants to glance at the clock on the bedside table just to get an exact measure of time, but he can't be arsed to do such a thing when Harry Hart cups his face and kisses him square on his damp mouth.

Their tongues writhe slowly for a long, sweet minute, Eggsy letting himself slump against Harry's legs, Harry raking his fingers through his Eggsy's disheveled hair.

"Come up here, you." Harry laughs, taking Eggsy under the arms and lifting him onto the bed like a pup unable to jump up for himself.

Eggsy lets himself be laid out across the blankets as Harry sees fit, right in the middle of the bed, his cock twitching when Harry kicks out of his trousers and pants before kneeling before him. The mattress dips, drags him in closer to Harry, and Eggsy gulps as Harry starts unbuttoning his dress shirt.

He's sure it's not meant to be so sensual, but maybe he has a kink for Harry Hart wearing suits and wearing nothing.

When Harry drapes the shirt over the foot board and turns back to Eggsy, completely naked, there's a thunderclap in Eggsy's chest.

Then he sighs, sitting upright and getting his hands on every inch of Harry he can manage. He palms across his pecs, digs fingers into the ridges of well defined muscle on Harry's stomach, grabs at his sides, the smooth jut of his hips beneath flesh. He should have known, what, with how Harry was Galahad for so long, and with how easily it was for him to turn the church inside out and paint it with blood.

Harry's fucking well  _fit,_ especially if one is taking his age into account, and Eggsy kisses along his collar bones, touches his lips to scars and the soft bristling of Harry's chest hair. "My god, you fuckin' looker. You're just perfect all over, ain't you?" He sniffles--because fuck, he's still crying and he doesn't care--, lavishing Harry's chest and muscled arms and as high as he can reach on his shoulders with more worshipful kisses. He feels like he's doing sit-ups, holding himself erect for the sake of being able to get his mouth on Harry, but he'd gladly stay in this position until his gut burst a new row of abs if it meant touching Harry above him.

"Too sweet, my boy." Harry husks breathlessly, taking Eggsy's face between his hands and lifting his jaw for a kiss, lying them both down at the same time.

And,  _fuck,_ if being pinned to a mattress by the weight of naked Harry Hart isn't Eggsy's new drug of choice. His head goes static, his toes curling against the heat of Harry, his gut burning against the press of him, his nerves tingling at the heady scent of him all around...

Eggsy might just die.

A hand locks around his left wrist, and he watches as Harry draws his hand up to his mouth and starts placing chaste kisses on the knotwork of scars zapped like lightning across his hand.

"You reckless boy, you. You're going to be the death of me." Harry chides, hugging Eggsy against him so that he can press another kiss to the beauty mark on his throat-- _that fuckin' beauty mark,_ man. Harry's in love with it.

Eggsy laughs breathlessly, spreading his legs for Harry's hips to slot between them, locking his knees around Harry's hips. "Who you callin' reckless? Last time I checked, I didn' get shot in the face."

"An argument can be made in my defense." Harry says lightly, biting Eggsy's throat roughly.

Eggsy's breath hitches in his throat, and he bucks his hips so their cocks slide together. And, oh, what delicious friction it is with Harry's weight on him, both of their cocks slippery and hard. "Mark me, Harry."

"A gentleman does not boast of his conquests." He's scolded.

"Fuck bein' a gentleman, Harry. I want everyone to know." Eggsy pants, raking his fingers down Harry's biceps, clasping at his shoulders. He growls in his throat when his fingers find the knot of scar on Harry's shoulder, the spot where he was stabbed by a civilian in the church with a blunt pocket knife. " _Hnn, shit, I want everybody to see."_

Harry reaches between them and plucks the medallion from Eggsy's chest, giving it a firm tug while he rises onto his free arm to box Eggsy in against the bed. It forces Eggsy's back to bow, and he digs his head into the pillow and moans. "I promise you, they see. I'm telling you, they know."

"Christ, how?"

"Apparently, I'm very transparent. Merlin tells me when you walk into a room everyone can smell it on me, that they can see it in my eyes, my posture, all of it. He tells me..." Harry kisses him on the mouth, demanding, teeth catching on Eggsy's lip roughly. "I'm whipped."

The grin that splits Eggsy's face is like the dawn breaking the sky. Harry's heart cracks. "That you fuckin' are. Now... Now give me you."

"You already have me, my love."

They kiss and fumble their hands about, and somehow, Harry sneaks his hand into the drawer of the bedside table.

Eggsy cracks his eyes open and tilts his head to the side, observing the bottle of lube and foil packet Harry is holding. "You don'--"

"This is your first time, Eggsy. Now, I'll not have you jumping into this headfirst without proper prepera--"

"Not that, I mean... You don' hafta wear this." Eggsy explains, pinching the condom and plucking it from Harry's fingers. "I mean, we can, if you want... But I'm clean, I swear it. Nevva had nothin'; I told you I always used protection. Get regular check-ups bein' a Kingsman an' such. I'm sure yous clean, too. Can' see you crawling through back alleys of slinkin' around with dirty birds. I jus, I'm not--"

Harry presses his hand over Eggsy's mouth, his gaze burning and fond as the sunrise. "...You would trust me that much? To... Eggsy, are you certain?"

A kiss is his reply, soft and nearly timid, compared to all they've undergone this night. "Nevva want nothin' between you an' me. I'm certain."

"I'll not start deconstructing your double negatives, but I'm sure you mean well."

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "As I recall, you denied me speech lessons when we first met."

"Do you recall?"

"'Being a gentleman has nothing to do with one's accent. There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man. True nobility is being superior to your former self.'"

"Hemingway." Harry corrects.

"Nah, you. Wouldn' be nothin' wifout you... Wouldn' be a gentleman; comfortable in my own skin... Not if I'd nevva known you."

The smile that lights Harry's face is like candlelight against the deep shadows of the room, and he ducks his head and presses his brow to Eggsy's. "And that you are. You'll never cease to amaze me. You know that, don't you?"

"I certainly hope so." Eggsy retorts, tossing the condom back onto the dresser. "Now fuck me."

"Such a demanding pup."

"Fuck me,  _please."_

"It's going to be messy."

"I'll love it."

"You dirty little pleb."

"My polished, posh king." He kisses Harry on the nose.

"I'll do this for you. But you'll not be making a habit of this. Bare-backing is a messy business; definitely not first choice when it comes to quickies. And these sheets are not exactly... Well, cheap." Harry scolds, kissing down Eggsy's bare torso, nuzzling his flesh with his nose and lips.

Eggsy lets his head fall back, sighing heavily to the ceiling. "Harry Hart jus said 'bare-backing' and 'quickies'."

"I'll be frank with you now, Eggsy--"

"I thought you wos Harry." Eggsy says smugly, lifting his head off the pillow to see Harry's mouth stop just beneath his navel. He hovers there, staring up at Eggsy with his mismatched gaze.

Then he bites him on the hip so hard Eggsy's voice breaks on his startled cry.

"That was for your cheek."

"But you bit my hi-- _aaaaaahn! Christ." Another bite._

"Give me another smart retort, Eggsy. Go on then."

Eggsy sighs, dropping his head back and wiggling his hips while unable to control his grin. He purrs stupidly, a sound caught between a laugh and a moan.

"Are you done?" Harry inquires politely, brushing his thumbs over the jut of Eggsy's hips, one pressing delicious weight on the sort spot now tingling from his bites.

"...Yes, Harry." He breaths, sounding so incredibly at ease that if his erection weren't prodding at Harry's chest, he'd think his boy was about to fall asleep.

It makes him smile. "Very good. As I was saying, I'll have you know, if you're going to be mine, there are duties that must be fulfilled."

"Sounds like yous givin' me anotha job." Eggsy groans, but it's mostly because Harry is suckling the tip of his cock a moment later.

"Should you ever wake before me, you'll be responsible for making tea and toast. Should I ever be at the office late and you decide not to wait for me, you'll be making dinner."

"Charmin'."

"Quite. I also request that I am allowed to dote on you as much as I see fit, and you will do your best to control your PDA."

"Why you sayin' I'm the one who's gonna start trouble?"

"One of us has to be the adult, Eggsy. I shall do my best to be a gentleman, most importantly at HQ... But I'm afraid that in your company, my feelings, if left unchecked, will have you up against any and every wall with my mouth on yours at every given opportunity."

Eggsy fights down his grin.

He can't let Harry see that he's going to use that to his advantage someday.

"Understand?"

"Is this really the time to be having this conversation? Can' we lay down the ground rules when yous not about ta deflower me??"

"I'll need you to be more careful on missions. You are to focus; be quick, and precise so that you can come back to me as soon as possible with little to no damage done to yourself. For every cut I find on you, I will punish you."

"Wot sorts ov punishments are we talkin' here?"

Harry laps at his balls and presses his thumb against the velvet-soft skin between Eggsy's sack and his hole, a wicked thought curling heat in his stomach. "Have you ever been spanked, Eggsy?" He husks.

When Eggsy wraps his head around the stimulation of his perineum, he groans. "Smacked around, yah. Spanked?"

It makes the fire in Harry's eye spark, hearing Eggsy say such a thing. "I promise, it's not what you think."

"Wot is it then?"

With that, Harry leans back, tucks his arm under Eggsy's knees, and used gravity to bend him in half, his thighs against his stomach, knees under chin. Like this, Eggsy's ass is bared, and the sight is something most heavenly. "Harry, wot are you--"

He cuts him off by striking a smooth blow across Eggsy's left cheek, and then his right. The sting makes his hand tingle and his cock throbs against his belly desperately.

Harry desperately hopes his boy approves.

The noise Eggsy makes can only be described as desperate; filthy and wet as he thrashes his head to the side. He approves.

" _That_ is spanking." Harry states in a gravelly voice. God, he wants to do it again already. _His boy is so responsive._

"...How is that punishment?" Eggsy rasps when he gets enough sense to speak.

"It becomes rather punishing after four or five strikes, I promise. And after a good spanking, if no one bothers to stroke that lovely cock of yours, you'll be aching and desperate for hours."

Blue eyes snap open and his head snaps up off the pillow. "Why wouldn't one bother to stroke my lovely cock then?"

Harry grins, staring down at Eggsy's bare ass, dusky hole fluttering, and he just can't help himself. He laves his tongue from the top of Eggsy's ass crack right over his hole, stopping at the tender flesh just behind his balls.

Eggsy writhes and moans out a filthy sound at that.

" _That i_ s the punishment." Is his answer, and then Harry is devouring Eggsy in impure, slippery tongue thrusts.

It's been a while since Harry has had to do this, but right now, he really, really just fucking  _wants to do it._

He laps his tongue in circles around Eggsy's fluttering hole, making the boy's hands scramble across the comforters, fussing up through his hair as he tangles his hands into it and pulls.

"Mother  _fuuuuuckin' hell, Harry. Harry!_ " Eggsy keens, and yeah, he feels perfectly fucking wrecked. "Thas fuckin--oh, god. You're jokin'!"

He's not a complete prude. He's fingered himself in the shower before, but he could never get a nice enough angle, but he has to reach down immediately and fist his hand around the base of his cock to keep from shooting off when Harry dips his tongue against his entrance and pushes in.

" _Haaa, hnn, auh. Fuckin' fuck._ " Eggsy whimpers, breathing in shallow, rough, rapid gasps that make his chest heave and his fingers tremble.

"That's it, my boy. Let me hear you." Harry says with a smile, then dives right back in.

Eggsy tastes like heaven; sweet, heady, musky in the richest way, and Harry feels like he's drowning. He's drooling down his chin, lapping and padding and thrusting into Eggsy's quickly relaxing hole, padding his hands up the smooth undersides of Eggsy's thighs. He suckles his beautiful boy's sack, pushes his knees up higher and apart so he can thrust his tongue in deeper and swirl.

And Eggsy lets him hear it, tells him how good it feels in gasping pants and broken little moans that rattle up out of his lungs and shatter on his kiss-bitten lips.

The blue-eyed angel is so sweetly vocal, arching his back, rolling his hips up into Harry's mouth, panting like he's dying, drowning, breaking. And he just can't shut the fuck  _up. Like, what's wrong_  with him?!

"Ah, yes, Harry, please.  _Nnnah! Jus like that--where the fuck_  did you learn...  _Oh, Harry, Harry, yes!_  Nevva even thought--oh, so good, I jus...  _Fuck!"_

Harry groans, and when he gets the chance, he drools onto his finger and twirls it around Eggsy's hole before sliding it right in.

And if Eggsy was vocal before, he's suddenly frighteningly silent, and a trembling whine pierces high in his throat.

"Eggsy?" Harry asks quietly, licking around the digit now sunken in to the second knuckle. "Are you alright?"

Eggsy is most certainly not alright. He's never felt so much all at once. He feels like fire and ice are battling it out in his blood, nerves alight with electric energy that is just on the right side of overwhelming pain. His skin prickles, sweat beading and rolling down his temple, and he can taste the salt in the air, hear his heartbeat like a kick drum in his chest, see the snow swirling outside the window as if it busted the glass and filled the room. Harry's tongue was one thing. His finger is another matter entirely--it opens the door in Eggsy's mind that behind which reality was hiding.

Harry's cock is most certainly thicker and longer than a finger, definitely more powerful than a tongue. And it's going to be inside of him in no time at all. He squeezes himself, wheezing as pearly fluid leaks from his tip, and he's staring at the silvery glitter speckled across the dark ceiling. The slightest twitch of his hips and he can feel Harry's finger nudge deeper, pressing against his velvety insides like a white-hot brand.

"Eggsy, I can--"

" _Don' stop."_ He whispers back, than rolls his hips down against Harry's finger, biting his lips and releasing a noisy breath through the nose. "Don' you fuckin' stop, Harry."

Harry is taken aback by the sudden demanding, very alpha tone Eggsy's voice has taken. He watches Eggsy lick his lips, and when Eggsy blinks his eyes open they're nearly black fire.

"More..." Eggsy rasps, and he thrusts his hips down against Harry's hand, fucking onto his finger. He moans breathlessly. "Please,  _more."_

"As I always say," Harry sighs, kissing Eggsy's bare thigh. "Please Eggsy Unwin."

He gives one last lick before he's scooting forward so he can rest the small of Eggsy's back against his folded knees, directing him to lift his legs and press his heels against the mattress for leverage. "I have you..." Harry breaths, and somehow it charges the air around them, all prior jest and comfortable calm evaporated.

Once he's in position, Eggsy is panting at the realization that this is really happening. He rolls his hips up, finding the most comfortable spot to rest in while Harry's finger starts working him in slow, immeasurable thrusts, digging the nails of his other hand into the skin of Eggsy's hip with the sweetest bite.

It's a distraction before he can let go to pop the lid of the lube open, pouring a generous amount onto his middle and ring fingers. He scissors them together, creating friction that warms the lube on his skin.

"Are you certain of this, Eggsy?"

His real question hangs in the air, and Eggsy bites his lip and nods.

He will never be more certain of anything again. Never be so sure of anything but Harry for the rest of his life. He lifts one hand and reaches out, gripping onto Harry's thigh and giving a reassuring squeeze.

There's a pressure against his hole, and then Harry's working another finger in alongside the first, and Eggsy's breath catches in his throat as his back bows.

The burn is incredible, the stretch beyond fulfilling, and Eggsy bucks his hips down against Harry's hand with a wanton jerk.

"Easy, lovely." Harry scolds, pressing his free hand down to the quivering muscles of Eggsy's stomach, brushing his thumb over the dusty hairs there.

"Fuck, I want it. Want it, want you, Harry,  _I want you."_ Eggsy slurs, and his eyes find it hard to focus on much of anything, so he closes them in favor of letting the sensation of being penetrated by Harry flood his mind.

His nerves tingle brightly, and he wants to see if having your prostate hit really makes guys go as crazy as the books and movies say. He's heard tell of the way it makes one break apart, but he's never touched his own.

He tilts his hips this way and that, Harry scissoring his fingers as he thrusts in and out with sure precision. Then Harry twists his wrist, pushes the pads of his fingers against the bundle of nerves he had been 'searching' for all along, because of course Harry Hart knows how to locate a prostate.

And fireworks burst behind Eggsy's lids, and his eyes snap open with a brittle cry as he bucks up, only to be thwarted by Harry's hand on his tummy.

"Well, isn't that just lovely." Harry growls, and Eggsy looks up at him for the first time in a while.

He's a beast. He's feral, glaring down at Eggsy with a fire in his eyes the boy has never seen the likes of before. The mist of sweat on his shoulders is glistening in the light from the street lamp, his hair starting to curl at his temples and neck where the damp has grown in thick. He's panting open-mouthed, breath hot and damp and, god, he's such a beautiful mess.

Eggsy mewls, pushes his hands against the mattress so he can sit up, and when he gets a hand clapped around Harry's neck, he climbs into Harry's lap and straddles him, mouthing a slick kiss to his lips. "Fuck, Harry,  _fuck."_ He moans, rocking down against Harry's fingers as Harry wraps an arm around the small of his back, helping to keep him in place.

His thighs are protesting after a good ten minutes, but Eggsy just keeps mewling and panting against Harry's mouth, their foreheads pressed together while Harry fucks him with his fingers, the sound obscene and sweet and the motion maddening.

Harry spends less time prepping him with three fingers, mostly because once it's in, Eggsy cries out brokenly and starts cursing madly about how badly he needs it, about how he's so ready.

It's ignored, for the most part. Though Harry loves the fiery will and desperation breaking in waves off of his sweet boy, he'll not be fucking him until he's damn well good and ready. Tossing Eggsy back down against the mattress, he changes the angle, grabs the boy by the hip, and drills his prostate as if his goal was Eggsy's life ending.

It comes pretty close, Eggsy's sure. He cries out and thrashes about, the sparks of pleasure lighting up through his system like white lights in the dark, and he can't find the difference between reality and dream, this life and Heaven.

"Harry, please,  _get the fuck inside me."_

"Well, when you ask so sweetly."

"Fuck off, you... You pr-- _aaaaah-ah-ah-ah!"_ Harry presses his fingers to Eggsy's prostate and _holds_ , sending wave after maddening unfinished wave of pleasure through his body, fuzzing his brain, making his toes curl and his stomach riot with fire.

Then his fingers are gone, and Eggsy is blinking through the haze of his own pleasured tears and the shadows filling the room. Everything is so hot. He's on fire, isn't he? Harry should put the fire out... He's delirious, drunken, dying.

Harry slicks himself up, pumping his hand over his maddening, blood-hot cock before he ducks his head down and claims Eggsy's mouth with a lingering, grounding kiss. It drags them both back into the reality of the moment, and Eggsy's fingers twisting in his damp hair have Harry sighing.

"...Please." Eggsy whispers, his voice already wrecked.

Who could say no to that?

Harry kisses him again, lining his cock up, brushing it in teasing strokes against Eggsy's lax hole, feeling the tip catch on his rim. "I'm going to take such good care of you, Eggsy... Do you understand?"

"You already have, love." Eggsy replies on a breathy laugh, pressing his hops down so the slight pressure pulls Harry's dick against him, nearly sliding in.

"No... Not just like this, Eggsy. Not just for tonight." Harry breaths, and he cups Eggsy's jaw to bring their gazes together. "Forever."

It's a promise sincere and sweet, a sworn vow that Eggsy will bet his life on from that moment forward.

He grins, sniffling before he knocks their foreheads together, sliding his hands up the hard plains of Harry's stomach and chest, riding up to clasp either side of his neck. "Forever..." Eggsy sighs, but the sound of it is too sweet to be considered cynical. "So fuckin' posh, bruv."

The head of Harry's cock breaches him, and Eggsy sucks in a breath that gets trapped in his throat like a boulder at the mouth of a cave.

"Don't call me that."

" _Harry..."_

Harry smiles and nudges his hips forward, pulling back before thrusting in another inch. He fucks into Eggsy like that slowly, stretching him, driving deeper with each thrust, making Eggsy's voice break and his nails bite into the meat of his forearms where he's resorted to holding on for dear life.

It's no surprise to Harry that Eggsy grows so impatient that he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Groaning, Eggsy arches his back and thrusts his hips up, catching Harry a bit off guard, so much so that Harry's cock slides the rest of the way in, bottoming out with blinding pressure on Eggsy's prostate.

And Eggsy practically shouts, keens so sweetly at that, sighing and heaving and clenching around Harry so hard he has to think of anything but this moment to keep from coming right then.

"Harry!" Eggsy whispers; whispers because his throat is raw and his breath is a gulping weight in his lungs, whispers because he's so in love with Harry, having him finally fucking inside of him nearly makes him admit it outloud.

Their foreheads press together, and their lips barely brush while their breaths mingle sweetly, heavy against the silence of the snowy world beyond the window.

"Eggsy, you... I-- _fuck, you're perfect."_ Harry breaths, then rocks his hips forward, making Eggsy see lightning and stars. "So fucking  _tight_."

Breathlessly, Eggsy tosses his head back. "Virgin, mate."

"Not anymore, sweet boy.  _Fuck, you're mine._ " Harry growls, giving a pointed thrust into Eggsy's heat. " _Mine."_

"God, yes. I jus--fuckin' Christ." Eggsy nearly laughs, his eyes burning as fresh tears gather and spill down his cheeks.

He feels so damn complete. It's like the first time seeing a shooting star; the burst of blinding light cutting the black velvet sky into silver. But instead of burning out in the atmosphere, it sets itself on fire, blazing into a fucking nebula with colors Eggsy has never seen before.

And then he comes again.  _Fuck, he comes again._ It's only a few spurts, and Eggsy is keening as he does, the weighty pressure on his prostate making his whole cock throb as cum dribbles from the head. He bucks against Harry's hips, driving his cock deeper, jerking against his hold in the most delicious way.

"You have  _got t_ o be taking the piss." Harry says incredulously, voice velvet and sin, and then he wraps his hand around Eggsy's cock and strokes it soothingly.

Eggsy laughs, the sound of it breaking into a sob as he wraps himself around Harry. "I've been out of practice. Fuck.  _Fuck."_ He retorts shakily.

"Well, you said you were a  _virgin, but--"_

"No, no, thas not it. I... I ain't been gettin' my rocks off on the regular no more." Eggsy explains, licking his lips as the waves of his orgasm subside. "I haven' jacked it since I stopped livin' wif you. I told you before. Like openin' the floodgates for Christ's sake." He kisses Harry's arm, the flesh that he can reach, sighing as he wraps his legs around Harry's waist to pull him in even deeper, the angle shifting as Harry begins to rock into him freely. A broken cry escapes his throat.

"You are just the most incredible thing in this universe, do you know that? My god, Eggsy, you are astounding." Harry praises, kissing his boy's throat and chest before he leans back and gets right down to it.

The thrusts start off sweet and steady, the heat between them settling, growing, Eggsy's hole growing accustomed to the intrusion, the need to find rhythm.

But Harry finds it quickly, and soon he has Eggsy moaning with each forward drive, watching his boy come apart beneath him. The sounds Eggsy makes have him losing his wits. He bites his lip and curses, drawing Eggsy's gaze up to his face.

There's such sweet fire in Eggsy's gut. It's liquid and syrupy, like lava sloshing about in his blood, his every fiber buzzing with the reality of Harry, the beat of his heart, the static crackling across his skin, sparking between them.

There's something about how Harry is fucking him that isn't right. He knows Harry; knows what he is, what he can do, the strength hidden behind the cage of his debonair appearance. Sure, it's nice... But it's not enough. He wants bruises, he wants blood. He wants the fight and the fire. He wants Harry to take him apart and piece him back together, a new man that has not a single spot of his soul untouched by the man he's in love with.

"Harder." Eggsy begs shamelessly.

The thrusts grow deeper and slower, Harry pants against his shoulder. "Eggsy." He scolds simply, biting lightly at the racing pulse beneath his lips. "Settle down."

" _Harder."_ He demands again.

"Darling, I--"

"Fuck, I'm not a fuckin' girl, Harry! I'm not made ov glass, I don' want you to treat me like I am. I want to feel you for days, now  _fuck me harder."_

Harry's resolve breaks, like a tension of thread bitten by snapping jaws.

Eggsy moans brokenly when Harry bears down on him, a hand snaking under his shoulder to grab his hair and yank, baring his throat, making his drawn breath a ceased labor. Harry's other hand grips him by the hip, and the most ferocious thrust yet punches through Eggsy's frame as Harry's cock slides deeper and harder than before.

"You want it hard, Eggsy? You want me to  _break you? Make you mine, yes?_ You want me to prove it, _yes?"_ Harry snarls, all semblance of gentleman shattered by the husky gravel of his voice, the lowness of it as it grinds through Eggsy's ears and pierces his bloodstream.

A shock goes through his cock and he whines as a smile breaks across his lips.

" _Fuck yes."_ He licks his lips, reaches one hand up to tangle it into Harry's dark, damp tresses, the other clawing at his shoulder. The way Harry hisses alerts Eggsy to the ferocity of his action, and he smiles even more broadly. _"Please._ " He tacks on with a breathy moan.

Harry groans, releasing Eggsy to kneel up, lifting Eggsy's narrow hips before he takes his legs under the knee, practically bending him in half before he's rutting into him, ramming him like a wild, starving animal.

And Eggsy takes it so sweet.

"Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus-- _fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Ahn,_  fuck." Eggsy rasps, each word punched out by Harry's thrusts.

"My filthy boy. Tell me you want it."

"I want it."

"Ask me to fuck you harder."

"God  _yes, harder. H_ arder, fuck--Harry _, harder, please!_ "

He tosses his head to the side, releasing Harry in favor of snapping his hands up to grip to the headboard, fingers scrambling across the wood before finding purchase. And the headboard starts knocking against the wall like some kind of perfect porno, the silence broken by the even, staccato beat and Eggsy's moans and Harry's gasping, ragged breathing. On top of that, there is the filthy wetness that comes with the pounding of Harry's cock into Eggsy's ass, the slap of skin on skin, the decadent brutality of it all.

Harry Hart fucks like he fights; he shoots to kill.

Eggsy is grinning despite himself, because he's never been more pleased by his own cheek. He broke Harry Hart's perfect stone-cold countenance of calculation and grace. He's shattered him, turned him into a creature of base need and desire, fucking into him like an animal in heat, leaving bruises on his skin, staining his blood cells with his passion.

It's more than any boy could ever wish for, and Eggsy has it. He fucking did it.

"Yes, Harry. Thas it--give it to me." He moans, breathless and punched out, pushing back against the headboard to drive Harry's cock deeper on each impaling thrust. "I'm yours. Please, don'... Don' ever let me not be yours."

Harry smiles through the haze, releasing one thigh to reach between Eggsy's legs and cup his cheek. He runs his thumb across those two little freckles again, and Eggsy laps at the digit before sucking it into his mouth. "Never. Never letting you go, darling."

"'M close. Harry, I'm gonna fuckin' come again.  _Oh, holy shit." E_ ggsy mewls brokenly, releasing the headboard in favor of reaching beseeching hands out to palm over Harry's arms, fingertips grazing his chest. "C'mere. Fuck _, make me come."_

Harry groans beautifully, lying forward and wrapping Eggsy up in his arms, one arm barred beneath his shoulders, the other around the small of his back.

His thrusts don't slow. In fact, in this position, he drives even deeper, fucks Eggsy even harder, panting and licking sweet nothings into the curve of Eggsy's neck while he drills him relentlessly.

He's close, too. But he refuses to come until he sees his boy mindless and broken beneath him, spent on pleasure that he'll most certainly feel for days.

"That's it, Eggsy. My good boy; precious, darling boy." Harry moans fondly--if one can do such a thing--and Eggsy kisses his shoulder, holding onto him for dear life, and these gorgeous moans are being punched from his body, tearing up his throat and making him dizzy as the breath is fucked from lungs. "Good boy, yes."

"M-more..." Eggsy whimpers, swallowing around the white-hot lump in his throat. "Harry, please,  _more."_

And, oh, if that's not a surprise.

Eggsy Unwin? With a praise kink? Another lovely tidbit Harry will endeavor to trample each chance he gets. He should have noticed before, when Eggsy was on his knees, coming untouched.

"Yes, of course my good boy. How can I stop going on about you? So beautiful, so good for me. Taking it so well.  _Take my cock so perfectly._ Good boy. Yes, flawless. So fucking good."

It's a symphony; a perfect crescendo with the headboard hitting the wall, Eggsy growing louder and louder, Harry gasping raggedly over him, and then, of course, the perfect  _slap, slap, slap_ of flesh meeting flesh.

"Kiss me, Harry--fuckin' kiss me, please!" Eggsy pleads desperately, scoring his nails into the skin of Harry's shoulders, dragging.

It gets Harry's attention in the most wicked fashion, and he growls in his throat, pulling back to meld his mouth to Eggsy's like a fucking vacuum. His hand releases Eggsy's shoulder in favor of gripping tight onto Eggsy hairs at the back of his head, angling the kiss, controlling it while Eggsy moans wetly into the hollow of his mouth as their tongues beat against one another.

Eggsy doesn't even need Harry to touch his cock. It's trapped between their stomachs, rubbing with slick, viciously good friction against Harry's abdomen, and he starts crying out before the first real wave of his orgasm even hits him. It forces him to pull his mouth away from Harry's to breathe, drooling and panting as the hot coil in his gut twists up so tight it hurts.

Harry sounds so gone, too, his breathing so heavy, these beautiful, barely there moans breaching his chest, falling from his lips to brush Eggsy's skin.

"Come on, Harry. Don' give up on me jus yet. Fuck me, fuckin' come for me. My Harry, god,  _please come for me. Please, come inside me_ , give it to me. Fuckin' come in my arse." Eggsy gasps wildly, and then he hears Harry laugh like a demon above him; so sultry, so dark.

"My lovely fucking  _slut._ My perfect boy--so fucking greedy.  _Filthy_. Are you sure, beautiful?"

"I said  _give it to me. Oh, please_ , give it to me."

"Oh, darling." Harry tilts his hips  _just so._ His cock hits Eggsy's prostate dead on, nailing it over and over, the sudden shock blasting through him in blinding waves of white heat and he throws his head back, every single muscle in his body giving a mighty spasm as he comes again.

The sound he makes drives Harry mad. That, combined with Eggsy's burning, velvet heat squeezing him like the end of days is coming, and he's shooting off inside his darling boy.

It's beyond compare. Without words to equivalate its intensity.

Harry sighs heavily against Eggsy's neck, his body shuddering as he keeps thrusting, pumping his molten ecstasy deep into Eggsy's broken, quivering body. He sees stars--heaven spinning wildly above him--and then he swears it all gets black and sweet for a long moment.

Eggsy is so fucked out.

He is fucked  _out._

He's about one hundred and two percent sure that he died for a minute after his fourth orgasm, and when he comes back down from it, he can feel the pressure of Harry's body crushing him, the weight of his fat cock throbbing, pulsing against his insides as Harry moans the sweetest, breathiest sigh and comes inside him.

It's the closest to heaven that Eggsy will ever, ever be, and he wraps his arms around Harry and moans, cock pulsing between them, painting their stomachs with his release while a bit of Harry's starts to drool from his fucked hole.

What feels like forever really only lasts about six minutes, and then they're both pulled up from the depths, swept through the cobwebs to find they're one soul sharing the empty space of the universe.

" _Harry... Oh, Harry, I... yeah..._ " Eggsy huffs out, his voice scratchy and sweet and so damn breathless. He laughs, slapping his hand over his face, snickering as he catches his breath, wiggling his hips about to stir Harry's cock around inside of him.

Harry groans long and low, just gentlemanly and controlled enough to not be considered a whine. "Sorry, I don't... Don't know what came over me. If at any moment I offended you, I--"

"You were gold, Harry... Just fuckin' perfect." Eggsy laughs sweetly, and Harry's previous concerns are trampled by the sincerity in his boy's voice.

When he lifts his head from Eggsy's shoulder, his hair falls into his face in dark chocolate threads, slicked together by sweat, and he grins before he melds their mouths together.

This kiss is so sweet in its sloppy nature, both of them breathless, lips brushing, tongues swiping, and they sigh and smile, laughing open-mouthed before Harry presses their foreheads together.

"Spectacular. You are absolutely spectacular." Harry breaths out the praise, kissing Eggsy's sweaty forehead, cheeks, down his jaw.

Eggsy mewls and sighs. "Are? Don' you mean, 'oh, Eggsy, you  _were spectacular?'_ Ain't that wot the posh bruvs say to their birds?"

"You will never be my  _bird._ You are my darling; my Kingsman. Never compare yourself to anyone in my eyes again, Eggsy, because you are above and beyond all else to me." Harry explains with a bit of bite in his voice. Then he goes on. "Now, to say you _were_  would mean that now that the act is done you no longer are. To say that  _it was s_ pectacular would imply that only the sex was gratifying." Harry beams down at him, then kisses him on the tip of his nose, Eggsy's fingers sliding through the silk of his hair and down the smooth, sweat-slicked small of his back. _"You._  You  _are_ spectacular."

Eggsy giggles, covering his mouth again. "You fuckin' ruin me, you know that? You are amazin', Harry."

"Don't you mean 'were'?" Harry teases, and Eggsy kisses him on the mouth again.

When Harry pulls out his softening cock, it is to both their dismay and displeasure, but he rolls to the side and pulls Eggsy into him, their bodies already growing soft in preparation for sleep, limbs jelly, bones molten, flesh a slowly dying fire.

The snow paints the window in glittery flakes as it dances past the pale light beyond the glass, the room still and quiet as the heater kicks in down the hall. The hum is a distant comfort, a calming thrum that pulls the haggard breaths and thundering heartbeats down from their storm.

Eggsy purrs smugly, nuzzling his face into Harry's chest as arms curl around him, fingers brushing his salt-slicked skin, raising goose bumps along his spine, down his arms. He has never felt so peaceful, so safe. The weight of it nearly knocks him unconscious.

Oh, what could ruin such a beautiful moment??

"Eggsy, I'm sorry, but you need to--"

"If you even  _fink ov sayin' 'forget this ever happened',_  I'll put a bullet through your good eye, Harry. 'M not even playin'; swear to God." Eggsy shoots quickly, even laying on a thick layer of posh over Harry's previously used words.

Harry doesn't move, and Eggsy thinks maybe he's actually startled Harry. Then he speaks, and his voice is flat and as dry as ever.

"...I was going to say your knee is digging precariously into my rib... Please relocate it. It's quite uncomfortable."

Eggsy blushes, and the laugh that jumps from his lips is quickly swallowed by Harry's mouth on his. "'M sorry. Sorry." He laughs, even as Harry is kissing him, running his fingers through that silken gold hair.

"Quite alright. But you still haven't moved your knee." Harry beams, and Eggsy giggles.

"Right, right." He breaths, lifting his leg and shimmying down so he can throw it over Harry's thighs. "Better then?"

"Hmm... Almost. I've quite forgotten my manners. If you'll excuse me for a moment?" When Harry moves to sit up, Eggsy grabs his arm so hard he would have bruised a lesser man, wrapping his leg around him tighter, as if he could bodily keep Harry beside him. Harry looks down at him with a fair amount of surprise. "Eggsy..."

There's such honest, pure panic in Eggsy's stare that Harry is taken aback for a moment, and he cups his beautiful boy's face in his hands. "Don' want you to leave."

"We're both filthy, Eggsy. If we're not to shower, I at least need to wipe you down. You can't sleep this way; it's ill favored." Harry explains.

Eggsy just squeezes his arm harder. "I jus... Harry, no."

"Eggsy, the bathroom door is right there. You'll watch me walk in, you'll watch me walk out. I'm not going anywhere, darling."

Once again, the endearment has Eggsy shivering, and he relents his hold on Harry; slightly. "Will you talk to me?" He says quietly, and he feels a little pathetic, but he knows Harry understands; sees how badly he needs to be reassured that this--whatever it is--is real.

Harry smiles, reaches out to brush Eggsy's hair away from his face. "Of course." He presses a gentle kiss to Eggsy's forehead before he climbs out of the bed, Eggsy finally releasing him. He clicks on the bedside table light, and it's a stark thing compared to the previous setting of the room, like the sun busting through the shade of night. It forces Eggsy to squeeze his eyes shut and mumble his disapproval before Harry huffs a tiny laugh. "What would you like to talk about?" He calls over his shoulder before he vanishes into the master bathroom.

Eggsy props himself up on his elbow, feeling the tender, delicious ache in his hips and spine from being thoroughly used and spent. "We could start with where you learned to shag like that. Pretty sure it's not somefin' they teach in gentleman school, or whatever posh, prat academy you went to."

Harry laughs dryly, bringing a smile to Eggsy's lips. "I told you, I went to Oxford."

"Did they teach you how ta fuck boys blind there?"

There's another long laugh in the bathroom, this one a little higher pitched, and it makes Eggsy giggle and flop down on the pillows. "Not exactly. In fact, I don't think I've ever had an experience quite like this one."

"How so?"

Harry returns wearing a pair of loose sleep pants--damn it--with two rags, already looking like he wiped a good deal of his own sweat and cum off, and settles on the bed between Eggsy's legs. When Eggsy shifts an explicit moan falls from his lips, Harry's cum dripping, oozing from his hole down across his thighs in hot streaks that have his muscles trembling.

"Fuck, that's great." He groans.

"Aren't you just." Harry laughs, shaking his head. Eggsy sighs and moans quietly as Harry drags the warm cloth across his abused hole, taking special care to clean him without being too swift, wiping up all the cum with precise fingers.

"Well, for one, I've never had such a responsive partner." Harry continues with a smirk, and Eggsy flips him off before throwing his arm over his face, focused on the feeling of warm, soft material wiping up the underside of his cock.

It twitches a tiny bit with interest, but Eggsy knows he can't get it back up. Not again. Five times? Maybe another day.

"For another, I've never had a partner I was so responsive for." Harry explains, then dips forward to press a kiss to Eggsy's navel before wiping the sticky white mess he's made all over himself. "You undo me, Eggsy. To be frankly honest, I wasn't sure I was going to last as long as I did--especially with that talented tongue of yours."

"Don' flatter me."

"I mean it. You, well..." He chuckles. "Devastated and divested me. I have never felt so free as I did with you just now."

His words melt Eggsy to the core, and he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips to a fine line to keep from crying out in glee.

"That being said, did I hurt you?" Harry breaths, brushing a light touch across a bruise forming on Eggsy's hip. His fingers fit perfectly into the purple petals.

"No. Felt fuckin' great. Want you to always have a mark on me." When Harry dips his head and kisses Eggsy's stomach, Eggsy grins and touches a pale shoulder blade. "See I left a bit ov a mark on you, too." He says, bemused as he runs his fingers across scratches marring Harry's skin.

"Yes, I rather liked that, by the way."

"Good. Always tell me wot you like. I'll do it more."

"You'll be the death of me." Harry groans. "Especially on your  _knees. I..."_ His voice goes thick and heavy with arousal before he shakes it out of his blood. "I thought I'd have to abandon ship. And for a man my age, abandoning ship means wading back to shore, tail tucked and head hanging." Harry laughs.

Eggsy jolts a little when another cloth--this one cold and a bit rougher--starts dragging down his sweaty arms. Harry wipes him clean, fondly running the cloth through the ridges and valleys of his pecs and abs, peppering kisses along his ribs, his gunshot scar, the tight V of his hips.

He gets a little slap to the thigh and rolls over without question, lets Harry wipe down his back with the cool cloth as if he's bringing down a fever rooted between Eggsy's shoulder blades. He fucking loves it.

"Well, with your stamina, once was enough." Eggsy laughs breathlessly against the crook of his elbow. "Can' say I wos expectin' that, but I shoulda been. I mean... It is you, after all."

"That it is." A kiss falls on Eggsy's shoulder, and his eyes fall shut like he had lead bricks for lids, a sigh falling from his lips.

"So fuckin' perfect, you are. They should be castin' your arse for rom-coms and shit."

"Too old."

"Nah, your age ain't a problem. I promise."

Eggsy is once again prompted to roll over, and this time, Harry pulls the abused sheets out from under him. It makes Eggsy pout, and with the way his hair is fucked to high heaven and bruises are starting to bloom on his skin like purple flowers, Harry isn't sure whether to laugh or moan.

"Be right back. Do you want me to talk to you again?" Harry asks, running fingertips down Eggsy's bare side and thigh with one hand, raising goose flesh all the way, after he tucks the bundle of sweaty, used sheets under his arm.

Eggsy shakes his head lightly, smiling up at Harry in the buttery light, the deep green and pale blues of his juxtaposed room striking Harry in a glorious light. "No... I know you'll come back."

The sureness in his voice combined with the way he lets his eyes fall shut assures Harry the boy really means it.

The cockles of his heart squeeze and he lets out a slow breath through his nose to keep calm. "Of course, darling." He breaths, and Eggsy grins broadly without opening his eyes.

When Harry comes back, he climbs onto the bed and drapes an old quilt-comforter about Eggsy's frame, causing Eggsy to open his blue eyes with a flutter. "No need for fresh sheets tonight. But you can't sleep without proper warmth." Harry explains.

Eggsy grins. "Thas wot I have you for. C'mere." He insists, and Harry sighs and settles in beside him, the room growing hazy from the warmth of the heater. Eggsy positions them as he sees fit, setting Harry's arm across the pillow before he nestles in against his chest, dragging the blanket over them as their legs tangle and his head finds a comfortable spot on Harry's shoulder.

And Harry allows it, smiling fondly, watching Eggsy press his mouth to a fine line as he focuses on getting comfortable. When it seems that he has found his rightful spot, Eggsy sighs with deep gratification and wraps one arm around Harry, the other curled in against his own chest, hand on Harry's heart.

It's so very  _home t_ o Eggsy; steady and strong beneath the firm muscle. Harry thinks Eggsy has already fallen asleep, so delighted from his fingers brushing against the small of his bare back and shoulder, so exhausted from his thorough fucking. A minute or two passes. "You didn' turn the light off."

"You're closer, and just as capable." Harry retorts.

" _Haaaaaarreeeeeeeeey."_

"Alright, alright, you plush little doughnut. But I'll need my arm."

"No, you won'. Jus shoot the bulb."

"Eggsy."

The laugh he earns is priceless, and Harry kisses the top of Eggsy's head before Eggsy settles for rolling onto his back so Harry can have his arm. Harry reaches up and tugs on the switch, and the room is dark once more, the window painting a square of snow-pale light across their bodies, falling over the bed and the wall beyond.

Eggsy doesn't necessarily sigh, because the breath that he exhales is so slow and warm and steady it can't be nearly compared to a sigh. He settles back into the curl of Harry's arms around him, his own arms folded up between them, accepting a kiss to his hairline while he presses his lips to Harry's collarbone.

"My darling..." Harry laments, and he lets his nerves unwind, allows his body to sink around Eggsy, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweet shampoo faded from the salt of his sweat and the tang of his hormones ebbing.

"Hmm." Eggsy murmurs, curling deeper into Harry's arms.

It seems as good a time as any.

Why the fuck not?

After all, when did Eggsy Unwin ever run from danger?

"...I love you." He huffs warmly--finally--against Harry's neck.

Harry jolts like he's been shocked, breath sucked in and trapped in his lungs, and he pulls back and looks down at the boy in his arms. Eggsy opens his eyes, a little confused, and looks up at Harry with the expression of a lost, sleepy pup.

"Eggsy... You--"

"I meant it the first time. Did you think I forgot?"

"The first...?"

Eggsy smiles. "You see, Roxy told me some maths that didn' add up. She said I woke up at six days, then ten, then twelve, then thirteen. When I asked you, you said I wos out for ten straight." His grin broadens, something warm sparkling in his hazy blue eyes. "I remembered... I remember wakin' up, seein' your face. I'll admit, I thought I was dead, but the longer I thought on it, the more realistic it felt, and I realized that I told you I loved you. But less surprisin', I realized I meant it."

"Eggsy, you were very heavily drugged." Harry replies, blushing warmly and sweetly and, Christ, Eggsy wants to beat him to death with a pillow. "The severity of your wounds--you were on so many meds. You couldn't even look me in the eye! You were so heavily drugged!"

"So you pretended like you didn' hear it?"

"Not exactly, I... I just assumed you were in a state of unreliable information. How could I take what you said and--"Harry rushes out, actually appearing flustered.

Eggsy presses the seams of their bodies together and kisses him, threading his fingers through Harry's hair, not parting his lips, not trying to taste. He simply holds their mouths together, the contact and pressure warm and reassuring.

Harry's pulse races under his hand like they're in the middle of a heated fuck all over again, and it makes Eggsy grin softly against their pressed lips. When he pulls them apart, Harry's breath fans his mouth in a moist puff.

"Don' assume."

"It makes an arse out of you and me." Harry grumbles.

"Shouldn't a gentleman, as you said, take the facts presented to him and put them together to find an ending point that is suitable?"

"Well... You're such a good listener when you want to be." Harry sighs, threads of chocolate silk falling over his forehead when he drops it down against Eggsy's. It makes the boy smile, the richness of Harry's spiced scent blended with sweat all around him, the way his king is all around him, inside of him, in his blood, his flesh, all the fuck over and through him.

"I love you." He says again, voice a summer's breeze, and Harry's breath catches in his throat audibly, like a hiccup, before he gulps loudly, hands fluttering over Eggsy's skin. "I'm not very heavily drugged now, am I, Harry?"

"I suppose not." Harry grates out, his voice thick as he swallows audibly again, tucking Eggsy down into his chest so he can lie his head down, his chin on the top of Eggsy's golden head.

Eggsy laughs breathlessly. "'S alright... I don' need to hear it jus yet." He laments, and Harry's eyes are on fire, so he shuts them and forces himself to breath steady, easy. "You showed me tonight... Don' hafta hear it, I... I know, Harry." A kiss lands on Harry's throat, and he shivers and brushes his thumb in a sweeping arch over the curve of Eggsy's shoulder, pressing down beneath a dark speckle of a beauty mark.

"Eggsy, I... Oh, my darling boy." Harry whispers, and he holds his breath so he doesn't sniffle when the sting of his eyes becomes too much, tears welling up and spilling down the bridge of his nose.

They soak into the pillowcase, scent the air with the thin brine of the sea within him.

The snow plinks against the window, flakes too frozen to flutter to the ground creating a shiver of sound like a glass symphony.

Eggsy moans quietly, shifting his hips, canting his naked body up along the smooth, warm plains of Harry's half-clothed figure. "Wouldn've wanted it to be anyone but you... Only you, Harry..." He curves one hand around the nape of Harry's neck, breathing against Harry's heartbeat, his body fuzzing out of reality. The weight of sleep pressed him down into the mattress, Harry the only thing tethering him to the world. "Love you. I love you so much...Forever." He snickers.

It's not long after that when Harry feels Eggsy's breath drop, his lips parting and his entire body lax as a dead animal, curled round him and growing hotter as the heater kicks out and sleep kicks in.

Harry is up until the heater wakes again, brushing his fingers down Eggsy's spine, breath slow and heavy. He is haunted by the feel of Eggsy's breath, the pleasured cries falling from those beautiful lips drowned out by that sweet voice whispering those sweet words.

He heaves a mighty sigh and tries to remove himself from the situation by leaving the room, leaving Eggsy, perhaps in favor of a late night cup of tea and a small log on the fire.

When he moves the arm curled under Eggsy's neck, Eggsy mewls in his sleep, his brows furrowing and his arm winding around Harry's waist, forcing Harry to lie on his back while Eggsy resettles his head on his chest, ear pressed to his beating heart. He folds his leg, curling it over Harry's knees, and the arm round his waist hugs tighter, a noise of satisfaction muffled against Harry's chest.

"Eggsy, I--"

"No..." Eggsy slurs. "Stay wif me... Jus sleep, sweetheart. You're safe." Eggsy continues, then smacks his lips and yawns weakly, curling round Harry like a security blanket.

"...I beg your pardon?" Harry says quietly, because, what in the world does Eggsy mean by that?

The sleep-mussed boy grumbles, kisses Harry's chest and digs his fingers into the meat of Harry's shoulder, hugging him tighter. "Safe... Keep my Harry safe... My love. I... Love."

Then he's unconscious again, and Harry sighs groggily, scrubbing a palm down his face before he wraps his arms around Eggsy hopelessly.

"Whatever am I going to do with you, darling?" He whispers, kissing the top of that golden head. He tilts his head to the side, watching the snow flutter by beyond the window, white and glittering like glass and light. "Damn you."

Eggsy grins in his dreams.

That night, Eggsy sleeps...

And it doesn't end with a bang.

**

The heater dies down with a loud thunk, and Eggsy's eyes flutter open. He's on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and he feels warmer and happier than he has in ages.

The room around him is not the usual one he wakes up to. He's a little disoriented, and the world outside is glowing pure white like it's been lit on fire by angels.

This would startle him, with all his Kingsman training, if not for the warmth of the body pressed flawlessly against his own.

Eggsy blinks, gathering strength and clarity by the second.

The walls are green as the sea, the ceiling dark and flecked with glitter, the blankets hunter's green and ocean blue. The window on the far wall has the drapes opened, the bathroom and bedroom door both ajar.

This is Harry's room.

Eggsy grins, lifting a hand to scrub it against his face, waking himself further as the call of bathroom needs and hunger rumble in his tummy.

It's only when he tries to sit up that he realizes he is being very well prohibited from moving. An arm is slung across his waist, and Eggsy turns his head to see Harry fucking Hart fast asleep beside him.

Harry is lying on his front, his head turned in Eggsy's direction. His hair is a perfectly disheveled mess, all fallen to one side, the opposite of his part. His mouth is soft and rosy from sleep, skin the loveliest shade of flush, and his lashes are dangerously gorgeous fans.

Eggsy presses his mouth to a fine line, holding in a high-pitched squeal of delight, because by god, Harry Hart in the morning is the most beautiful thing. Cast in the winter-pale light, his scars are soft, his shoulders exposed by the blanket riding low along his back. Eggsy wants to linger in this moment forever, but Jesus, he has to pee.

Eggsy reaches out, brushes fingers through Harry's hair, fixing it with a fond smile. "I'll be right back..." He whispers, then he leans forward and kisses the scar on Harry's eyebrow.

Harry doesn't even stir, merely lets out a steady breath, heavier than the others before it. Eggsy has never seen him so at peace.

He removes Harry's arm from across his waist gently, taking care to roll out of the bed without disturbing the weighty balance held between them. His hips sway, and there's the most distinct pressure at the base of his spine. His ass feels about a thousand times better than it's ever felt--all achy and tight, thoroughly abused. It gives Eggsy cause to look down at the man who made him this way, beaming and bemused.

Standing up, looking down at the bed, Harry is an even better sight to behold.

Eggsy wonders if he's ever seen anything quite so beautiful as a sleeping Harry in a tangle of dark blankets, pale shoulders etched in bright lines by the sunny glow on the snow beyond the window, dark hair splayed across his pale pillowcase.

He grins, toddling off to the bathroom quietly.

When he returns, he sneaks into Harry's dresser drawer to procure a pair of drawstrings that he knew would fit him--personally, as he's worn them before. They're softer than hell, and they just barely drag on the ground when Eggsy settles them low on his hips. He grins at Harry for another minute before he ducks out of the room.

He pads down the stairs quietly, reaching up to tousle his hair and he reaches the bottom. The entire house is coated in a particular light--pure as angel feathers, casting everything in a paler light. The windows are brighter than ever, and Eggsy isn't sure if he can even make out shapes beyond their panes.

JB comes trotting out of the sitting room and huffs at him loudly, chuffling like an angry pig. "Oh, sorry, boy. Didn' mean to, well... Let's go outside." Eggsy laughs, leading the pug to the front door.

When he unlocks the door and swings it open he has to blink against the harsh and pure whiteness blinding the earth.

JB trots out without being told twice, though he seems a little reluctant to pad through the snow.

Eggsy can't help the idiotic smile that spreads across his face, the flutter it puts in his heart.

The world is a blanket of white, not a single disturbance to the purity of the snow dusting the block. The sky is a rolling gray so thin that the sun seems to be setting it on fire, and the tiny flurries still falling from the thin-spread wool drift along in slow motion.

The huffing and puffing of JB pouncing through the snow drags Eggsy back down to earth, and he can see the pug has already gone to the bathroom among the bushes in front of the sidewalk. Now he's just stuffing his nose into the snow and flicking it in the air.

"C'mon, you ninny. Git your arse back in here." He calls, and JB turns to him, mouth agape in a broad smile, white flakes all over his smushed face. "C'mon!"

Once the pug is back inside, he follows Eggsy into the kitchen. Something tells Eggsy not to look at the clock above the stove. Why should he care what time it is? This is a 'live in the moment' kind of day, he thinks.

He fills Harry's kettle with water, sparking up the stove before he sets it on a burner. After that, he produces from the cabinet a delicate porcelain teacup. It's taller than some of the other sets, meant for holding more tea, and it's white as snow with a silver-encrusted snowflake on the front, a gleaming metallic ring around the rim.

He grabs another.

JB wags his curled tail patiently, and Eggsy laughs, rising from his perch on the dining table to get into the pantry. He gathers a small tin of biscuits, popping the lid off so the scent of butter and sugar hits him right in the nose.

"Jus a few." He says boldly, then sets on on the pug's waiting tongue. He eats a few for himself, finding it quenches the ache in his belly rather quickly, but a gentleman doesn't spoil his breakfast, especially when their lover is upstairs, more than likely in need of sustenance themselves.

When the kettle starts whistling, Eggsy removes it from the burner and prepares the tea, taking great care to strain the Earl Gray before splashing the tiniest amount of milk into the cup.

It's not his favorite, but he pours a serving into the other cup, dowses it in milk, and drops too many sugar cubes into it. It's not his intention to slurp the tea down so quickly, but he's still rather hungry, despite having a few of the sweet butter biscuits.

"Right. You stay here, kay? I'm gonna go wake sleepin' beauty."

JB snorts.

"Yeah... Yeah, he's kinda like a da to you, ain't he?" Eggsy grins, then he stops and plants a kiss on the pug's nose. "Papa Harry?"

The pup shakes his head so hard his ears clap.

"Hm, maybe not that far then, haha." Eggsy titters, then he picks up Harry's cup of tea and heads for the stairs.

When he reaches the bedroom, he sees Harry hasn't moved in the slightest. It eases his conscience, pulls the tension from his shoulders as he sees Harry relaxed against the blankets like the world has not a care.

He can't fight his smile, can't tamp down the burning ache of devotion and adoration flaring in his chest as he walks to the side of the bed and brush his fingers down Harry's bare spine, as far as the blanket will allow.

"Wake up, gorgeous... C'mon, sweetheart. Brought you tea. You said I had to make you tea. C'mon, love." He dips his head down and kisses Harry's temple. "Sweetheart... Lemme see those gorgeous eyes."

A groan low in Harry's throat is the only cue Eggsy has before Harry is turning his face over, moaning into the pillow as he looks over the edge of the bed. He grumbles indistinctly and squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

"Hm?"

"Hey, sleepy head..." Eggsy says quietly, combing his fingers through Harry's hair.

Harry stirs, shifts his weight in the bed so that he's sprawled out a little differently, his head turning up and his brows furrowing, perfect shoulders flexing.

"...Eggsy?" He whispers, like a prayer, a plead, as if he isn't sure it's real, doesn't want to open his eyes.

It puts a tick in Eggsy's heart. "Yah, thas right. C'mon, gorgeous. Wake up." Another caress, this time across Harry's cheekbone and jaw, and Harry mewls deeply in his sleep.

Eggsy has to press his lips to keep from exclaiming at that. Holy shit, his Harry is so cute. Then a whiskey-colored eye cracks open, and lips part as a hand slides out from under the pillow to grab Eggsy's wrist.

"Ah... Good morning." Harry breaths, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His left eye remains closed, whether by habit or by the weight of sleep, Eggsy is unsure, but he smiles and ducks his head again, kissing Harry's forehead, just above the scar on his eyebrow.

"Mornin'. Brought you tea."

"You are too precious, my prince."

Eggsy's blue eyes snap wide and he grins broadly. " _Prince,_ huh? I rather like that."

"Cheek." Harry chides, rolling onto his side. "Knew I shouldn't let that one slip."

"Oi, ain't you sort ov a mornin' riser? Got lots to do in a day and only so many hours of daylight?" Eggsy inquires, crossing his arms over his chest, puffing up boldly.

"Don't try to look imposing with that bedhead, Eggsy. And where did you get those pants?" Harry says, avoiding the subject.

"In your drawer."

"Hm. I prefer you completely naked."

"Nah, that leaves too little to the imagination."

"And how my imagination did not fail me." He reaches out for Eggsy's hand, which Eggsy gives over easily, blushing lightly across his cheeks when Harry kisses his knuckles.

"But seriously, don' you always get up early? You're always up before me an' shit; why you so sleepy? Got the day off?" Eggsy inquires, the scent of Harry's tea curling in the room, painting the pretty picture against the blues and greens, the white glowing like moonlight in the window.

Harry smiles. "It has been a while since I was so thoroughly exhausted that I slept quite so heavily and felt quite so blissfully lazy in the morning. As for work, I am not required to come into the office every day, so you know. So... Yes. Today is my day off, and I am being a layabout because my darling boy gave me such a good tumble last night."

Eggsy chuckles, climbing over Harry and tumbling into the bed beside him. "You're too good for me."

"Hm."

"I'll be a layabout wif you, then. At least for a bit." Eggsy tacks on, and he settles down into his spot, though now, he's behind Harry.

Hey...

He curls up along the line of Harry's body, smoothing out all the spaces between them, sidling up against his back perfectly, slotting a knee between Harry's thighs.

Harry twitches. He opens his mouth, then closes it. After pressing it to a fine line for a good long minute, he sighs, exasperated.

"Are you spooning me?"

"Don't people like spoonin'?"

"Well, I must admit, I'm normally a big spoon."

"...Just every once in a while?" Eggsy pleads quietly, and Harry sighs.

"Once in a while, then. I won't be robbed of the absolute privilege it is to fit you perfectly in my arms. But... This is rather nice as well." The smile in his voice can't be smeared away, and Eggsy grins at the sound of it as Harry goes lax against him.

"Want my arm round ya?" He asks, even as he wraps it across Harry's side and touches his palm to his chest.

Harry takes his wrist, lifts his hand, and presses a kiss to the mangled scarring on Eggsy's palm. Then he tosses his arm away. "Don't push it, Eggsy." Harry grumbles, settling against the mattress with more finality.

Eggsy nuzzles his nose against the scar left on Harry's back from the church. He hadn't gotten a good look at it last night, merely ran his fingers over the knotted tissue He kisses the mark, where a civilian had driven a knife deep into Harry's skin and muscle, before Harry whipped around like a wounded wild animal and wiped the civilian's life-force out. The scar is a prickle of lightning, and looking at it makes Eggsy's own go tingly; the marks earned in the line of duty. He presses the web of scars on his hand flat over Harry's shoulder, shifting, feeling the pull in the scabbed-up muscle of his side.

"...Can I ask you a question, Harry?"

"I told you. Anything." He replies, and his voice is drugged by sleep and pleasure, but still smooth and even. Ever the gentleman, even rumpled by sleep and the aftermath of incredible passion.

Eggsy kisses the scar again, then settles in tighter against the line of Harry's back and dances his fingers across the underside of his shoulder blade, sighing against the mottled tissue. "Wot did you tell Merlin? That day, after I stopped listenin' in... The sudden change in decision. The choice to admit to me...?"

Harry stills, his breathing growing deeper. He settles back, curves his spine so that Eggsy's lips leave his scar and slide up to the base of his neck, taking one hand and fisting the sheets with it. It takes a bit of faith, a bit of trust, and no short supply of courage for Harry to get the words out, but he does, nonetheless.

"That I loved you." Harry says quietly.

Eggsy freezes, his breath caught in his throat, and he leans back up onto his elbow so he can see the side of Harry's face. He's so calm, eyes closed as if he were still sleeping, mouth soft as his breath falls in steady huffs. The angry X and nick above his eye are pale in the snowy morning light coming through the window.

"I admitted I was in love with you; madly and pathetically. I looked him in the eye, that scolding bastard, and I said, 'it doesn't matter. Yes, I'm in love with him! I'm so madly, pathetically in love with him, but I have ruined, completely ruined, everything...'" Harry continues, then a tiny smile touches his lips. "Merlin called me a fucking moron, as you could have guessed, and gave me a push in the right direction. He's always done that. I'm not sure if he was even really surprised by the confession, but... It was the first time I'd ever said it outloud, honestly."

Eggsy's eyes are watering wildly, and he presses his face against the pillow before he hugs Harry close, crushing him. "I'm sorry... Look at all the time I cost us. I shoulda let you explain."

"No, no. You were right to yell at me. What I said was cruel and despicable. And Eggsy?" Harry laces their fingers together, holding the younger boy's hand tightly over his heart. "I hope I've served my penance for the terrible things I said. I will never for the rest of my days speak ill of my lovely boy. I swear it." He kisses Eggsy's hand.

It breaks the boy's heart.

"Well... I guess I forgive you. Well, I mean, I think I forgave you last night sometime."

"That you did."

"...You're in love with me, Harry? My god, you're in love with me?" Eggsy practically moans, mouthing kisses along Harry's neck and shoulders.

Harry makes an incredibly pleased noise at that. "Yes. I told you, I'm quite enamored."

"Since when?"

Harry laughs. "Well, I realized I wanted you from the beginning. I was told I received a coded call to spring you from jail, and when I watched the footage--you driving backwards through the streets like some maniac, you twit--I was rather smitten."

Eggsy snickers and bites Harry's shoulder. "You liked that, did ya?"

"Very much so." He replies with a husky sigh. "I've been gone on you since the beginning, darling."

"And when did you know you wos in love wif me?"

Harry stiffens. "...When I got shot in the face and watched the sky go dark over me. You were the last thing I thought of, when the weight crushed me down, when I truly thought I was going to die."

Eggsy is still, quiet, his heart a riot in his chest.

"I thought to myself, god, I love him. I love him, please, keep him safe for me." Harry sighs quietly. "I felt like a tit, having never told you that I adored you when I had the chance. I thought about it once, and only once, that I would proposition you after you received the position in Kingsman. It seemed more appropriate then, as we would have been colleagues rather than a proposal and a knight."

"You shoulda just taken me up against the wall in fitting room three. I wouldn've minded."

"You brat. Were you in love with me then?"

Eggsy sighs, the tremble of his heart calming quickly. "Maybe. I mean, I wanted you from the moment I saw you. 'Specially after you openin' a can of whoop ass in the Black Prince."

"Ah, you liked that, did you?" Harry parrots, though with much more propriety than Eggsy's previously spoken words.

"Very much so." Eggsy tosses. "Had a hard on under the table like you wouldn't believe."

"You're joking."

"Not even. I was so fuckin' turned on. Had no idea I could get so excited just by watchin' someone kick arse. Thought about poppin' off to the loo for a quick wank, but I didn't wanna let you outta my sight. Glad you wanted to finish your Guinness though, or I wouldn've been able to stand upright." Eggsy laughs, and Harry joins him in the sound. "But... I knew I wos in love with you the day I tried to kiss you. In the rain. I mean, I loved you before that, I fuckin' know it... But that was the first time I really thought it, in my head--for sure. That I was too far gone."

"We're a pair, aren't we?"

"We most certainly are..." Eggsy whispers. "I love you, Harry."

"...I love you as well, Eggsy. So much it hurts."

They are allowed to lay there quietly for a very, very long time, just cuddling, listening to the heater kick in, humming down the hall, heartbeats quiet and steady together.

"Harry? You apologized to me, but I, uh... I never said sorry to you. And I really, really need to say sorry, cos it... It's been buggin' me. Not just since last night, but since you... Since you came back. Nevva left me head." Eggsy says quietly, and Harry flinches, rolling slightly so he can look over his shoulder at him.

"Whatever do you mean, lovely?"

Eggsy chews the inside of his lip, fumbles with his words for a long, aching time. "Wot I said to you... I went off on you, Harry. Before you left for Kentucky, before you went an' got shot. I was so cruel to you, I wos upset, an' I lashed out at you like I ain't nevva lashed at anyone before. I... I basically called you a fuck up, jus cos my da wos brave. I remember everythin' I said to you... Not five minutes after that, you left, an' you shoulda nevva come back to me. You shoulda--" Tears well in his eyes and his voice breaks like glass, and Harry is immediately rolled over, sitting up on his elbow and curling Eggsy close. Just when Harry gets him in his grasp, Eggsy crushes his face against his chest and starts sobbing.

"Eggsy, my love, that is quite enough of that." Harry says firmly, but his pulse has sky-rocketed. "Why are you crying?" He tries to push Eggsy back, to get him to look him in the eye, but Eggsy clings to him so firmly, sniffling and groaning unabashedly.

"I-i-if-f-f if I had ne-nevva seen y-you again, th-that woulda been the l-last thing I evva said t-to you-ou! Woulda nevva been a-able to say s-so-s-s-sorry..." Eggsy mewls, his voice hitching before he sobs to hard his shoulders shake.

Just when he thought he was  _done crying, holy fucking shit_.

"Eggsy--"

"My god, Harry, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I said that to you, I love you so much. I'm s-s-sorry, sweetheart. You're not a fuck up.  _I'm_ the one who fucked up. I... _I got you shot."_ Eggsy whines, and Harry sits up higher, cupping Eggsy's cheeks.

"Please, Eggsy, don't think that way." Harry pleads, his voice a wavering line.

"It's the only way to think!"

Harry dips his head forward and presses their mouths together, and for a moment, Eggsy tries to fight back. He pushes his hands against Harry's chest, makes a muffled noise of disapproval, squeezing his eyes shut.

And then he's whining, licking into Harry's mouth and wrapping his arms around his neck, throwing a leg over Harry's hip. He moans and ruts their bodies together, and Harry can't ignore the fire that flares like a white-hot coil in his gut at the press of Eggsy's length slotting against his own between thin layers of fabric.

It gets so hot so fast, with Eggsy's grabby, greedy hands all over him, the lines of their bodies pressed flush, seamless as they kiss like they're starved. It would be so easy to yank Eggsy's drawstrings down, roll him over, and fuck into his already abused hole until they were both coming undone on the high of the other's pleasure...

But Harry can't do that. Eggsy is delirious and blinded by raw emotion. It's his job as Harry to protect his prince.

So despite the raging ecstasy trying to bubble in his blood, he keeps his cool, and he kisses his boy into a state of calm, running a hand down his back, panting open-mouthed against Eggsy's lips while the boy ceases his crying.

"...It's alright, darling. I'm here now. What happened was not your fault. Not in the least. Still... For your words, I forgive you." He gives him another chaste kiss, feels Eggsy's bottom lip tremble. "I will always forgive you."

"I love you, Harry. You came back for me, you came back. I love you. Love you so much, don' leave me again. Everybody always leaves me." Eggsy groans, then ducks his head so he can nuzzle against Harry's jaw like an angry cat.

Harry pets a hand through that mess of golden hair, sighing as he smiles, drawing Eggsy closer. "I will never leave you. Never, not if I can help it. I will do anything and everything in my power to keep you. Forever"

"You dummy." Eggsy laughs through his tears, reaching up to scrub a hand against his wet cheeks. "Forever sounds fine wif me."

They kiss again, and now that the young man in his arms has managed to cease his downpour and has stifled his haggard breaths for the day, Harry doesn't feel too indignant or guilty when he reaches between them with one hand to palm Eggsy's cock, cupping his ass and squeezing with the other.

Eggsy moans brokenly, canting his hips up into the contact. "Oh,  _shit. Morning sex?_ Am I dreamin'?"

"Well, you were a good boy and brought me my tea. And apologized for hurting me. And I take care of my boy." Harry husks before licking the shell of Eggsy's ear.

"Ahn, please, Harry." Before he can say anything else, Harry is gripping the elastic band round his waist, tugging--

And before Harry can do anything else, Eggsy's phone starts screaming  _God Save The Queen._

"Christ--mum!" He exclaims, rolling away from Harry to reach blindly for the bedside table. But his phone has found a new home on the floor, and when Eggsy sees it, he lunges for it without thought, sprawling across the floor as gravity pulls him out of the bed.

Harry sits up so quickly his head gets a tad woozy, and he presses his hand over his mouth to cover his smile when Eggsy slides his phone open and holds it to his ear, spread out like an X across the floor.

"Hi, mum. Good mornin!"

Harry can't hear the other end of the conversation very well, but Eggsy fills in the blanks for him while he reaches for his tea. He takes a sip, relishing the heated weight of the Earl Gray, not too much milk, barely sweet.

It's perfect.

He can't stop his grin when he looks down at Eggsy on the floor again.

_He is perfect._

"Oh, no, I made it home fine. Yeah, jus wakin' up now... Did--uh-huh. Ok. Yeah. Uh-huh. Alright. I can come over later if you want?" Eggsy makes a mock suicide attempt by putting a gun to his temple and blowing silent raspberry.

Harry glares down at him and shakes his head. 'No, Eggsy', he mouths, and Eggsy titters.

"Well, I can swing by while you's at work. Might be busy tonight anyway." With that, Eggsy arches his back, tilts his neck, baring it, and licks his lips. His free hand runs down his waist, thumb dipping into the waistline of his pants while his fingers dance across his half-hard cock.

Harry's entire body jolts with interest, and he knows in his heart he is well and truly fucked, goose cooked, end game. He is bound to Eggsy uncontrollably, and he doesn't even mind.

Still, he has the nerve to chide the boy by dropping a pillow down on his face.

"Wot? No! It wos JB messin' wif me. Careful now, _JB_ , you knocked the phone outta my hand." Eggsy grumbles. "Wait... You're goin to work whe--why do I have to go over there now? Can't we jus have tea tomorrow of somefin?? Awe, mum... Fine. Fine, but just for a lil while. And no talkin' bout work. We'll do that later, kay? I promise. Of course, a gentleman always keeps his promises... I am too a gentleman!"

Harry shakes his head, takes another drink of his tea, and cocks his head to the side. "A filthy gentleman who moans like a whore and enjoys, how did you say it, getting fucked blind?"

Eggsy chokes on a noise in his throat and stuffs his hand into his pants. "Yeah, mum. I'll see you in a bit. Love you too. Bye." When he hits the end button he drops the phone and crawls onto the bed like a beast, making an attempt to shuck his pants off that ends unwell.

"Why are you trying to get naked?" Harry asks, bemused, not setting his tea down even as Eggsy straddles him.

"Don' hafta be to the Crumpet Hut for an hour and a half. We got plenty ov time for some fun." Eggsy says boldly, grinding himself down against Harry's groin.

A hand flashes out and catches his hip, stilling him. "We'll not keep your mother waiting. And if we get carried away, I will not be letting you out of this bed until the late afternoon."

"Then I'll call her and say I got sick." He feigns coughing, and it is awful.

"Eggsy."

"But I'm all hard now! Fuck, I'm so ready for you, Harry." Eggsy sighs, pressing their foreheads together. "So ready. Want your perfect cock in me right now."

Harry smiles and reaches up, cupping Eggsy's soft cheek in his hand. "Insatiable. Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Love me?" Eggsy says brightly, like it's a question at all.

Harry pulls him down for a kiss, setting his tea down without looking so he can rub one hand across Eggsy's back and use the other to cup his cock, stroking the length of it through the thin cotton. "I will never do anything but."

Eggsy whispers a curse, bites his lip, and Harry just can't say no.

"Let's kill two birds with one stone then, shall we? We're filthy. Why don't we get undressed, get in the shower, and I'll see how long it takes you to come from my tongue in your beautiful arse, hm?" Harry says softly, as easily as if he were suggesting to Eggsy what they should have for lunch, or if they should change the blinds framing the bedroom windows.

It makes him grin and whine, chewing his lip. "God, yes, please."

Harry smiles up at him. "And if it is a fashionable time, I'll fuck you against the tiles. Have you stick your beautiful arse out for me, spread those gorgeous legs, and press you against the wall and fuck you. Fuck you and fuck you until you're coming undone all over again, just for me."

Eggsy nods frantically. "Your mouth,  _Christ!"_

"Then we shall get ready together, take JB for a quick walk, and go see your mother for a milkshake and perhaps another slap for me."

"Won' let her slap you. I promise. I'm in love with you, Harry." Eggsy pants, rolling his hips into Harry's hand. "She's gotta get used to you at some point. Won' let you go for the world."

"My precious darling." Harry sighs warmly, then he bows forward, knocking Eggsy onto his back to cage him down against the bed with his arms.

How did Eggsy ever get so lucky? He asks himself drowsily through a smile as Harry kisses the breath from him, holding him and touching him and just loving him.

Then Harry pulls back, and his whiskey gaze burns into Eggsy's heart, right through the core of his soul.

"Shower, fuck, walk, milkshakes." Harry says, then kisses him again. "And when we get home, perhaps we can arrange for your things to be moved back from the flat on Ivory Street."

Eggsy starts. "You... You want me to move back in? Stay wif you?" Oh, his heart feels like it's gonna burst.

Harry nods easily, reaching up to curl a hand behind Eggsy's neck. "I only ever wanted you with me. As close as close could be. Eggsy, I need you by my side..."

"Well, sharing a bed every night sounds like a good way to start." Eggsy replies, nudging his forehead against Harry's, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders.

Harry laughs breathlessly, pressing his lips to Eggsy's as he maneuvers beneath him, locking his hands around Eggsy's thighs before he slides them off the bed, standing in a gracefully fluid motion with Eggsy in his arms.

"God, you're fuckin' perfect, Harry." Eggsy sighs, ducking his head to kiss Harry's shoulder, his throat, nuzzling into the column. "I love you."

"If you're particularly good for me, we can stay up late tonight once all of your things are back where they belong--in my closet."

"Nah. We can jus put it in the guest bedroom. Take up less space."

"I'll have none of that. You, my love, will have your things in our room." Harry presses Eggsy's back up against the wall beside the bathroom door, kissing him wildly up his neck, across his jaw, up to his mouth. "This is our home. Our life, together, starts now. We're going to shower, go see your mother, get all your things home, and then, I am going to see if I can get you to come for me  _five times i_ n one night." Harry smirks against his mouth like a wild animal.

"Oh,  _god."_ Eggsy moans, smacking a hand over his face as he arches back against the wall, pressing himself seamlessly against Harry.

"You're mine, Eggsy. Forever, always. Mine." Harry says warmly, kissing the beauty mark on his neck before laving his tongue against it.

Eggsy feels so fucking good. He's ever felt better in his entire fucking life, and he holds onto Harry tightly, tangling his fingers into his hair, smiling against his temple, feeling the weight of his medallion against his chest.

He's home.

God, he's finally home.

Harry pulls back and looks up at him, and Eggsy is so enthralled by the brilliance of his whiskey-and-sky colored gaze, the curve of his smile as Eggsy tugs on his hair.

There's so much beauty in him, damn it.

The fucking sun.

_Eggsy's sun._

Harry nuzzles their noses together before he lets Eggsy slide down the wall just enough to touch their foreheads together while holding glowing eye contact.

"Does that sound agreeable, my darling boy?" He murmurs, warmly, fondly. And there is so much love in his voice.

The grin that parts Eggsy's lips is bright as sunlight on snow. He presses their foreheads together.

"...Yes, Harry."

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo, this is gonna be long.
> 
> First. Let me say thank you.
> 
> Also, at some point, you can go back through the other chapters and there will be some reference gifs and pics that people had asked for, such as Roxy's dress and the rooms in Harry's house, and tidbits thanking people for their help on the series as a whole. The love cannot be given enough. Crumpet Hut courtesy of Steve. I miss ya. 
> 
> Holy crap... Broke 100,000 words on my first fic!! I could cry.  
> 
> 
> And we come to the END of this shrubbery maze. Thank Christ, man. We have the apologies, we have the explanations, we have a decent amount of tears that I burned the midnight oil for, and we have a substantially well-worded and lengthy sex scene that could steam glasses. Hallelujah.
> 
> Harry's beauty mark kink comes from my own sexy subconscious. The things I would do to Taron's neck, man. I mean, c'mon.  
>   
>   
>   
> The smut. OH, THE SMUT!! Tis where my true talent lies. Hope I didn't scare you all off with my immense and deep desire for these two to be down on each other until the cows come home, because let me tell you... It is an immense and deep desire.
> 
> Colin Firth kissing is a gift.  
>   
>   
> Odd, that I picture Matthew Goode as Eggsy's dad, and seeing him kiss Colin undoes me... Matt once said, "Colin kisses like a nymphomaniac on death row." I used such inspiration for this entire series. Thank you, Mr. Goode. Bless you.
> 
> Last, let me say thank you. Thank you guys so much for your love for this fic. It really kept me muddling through. I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the series, and any other things I plan on doing with this ship, because, my god, they are my truest OTP and I have about a dozen more fics I want to write for them, if you'll be there to see them.
> 
> Come by my <3 <3 [Tumblr](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/), which will be a home for snippets, spoilers, and a place for you to help me make decisions about things to come!! I love you all!!


End file.
